


Heated Blood

by ImaniJoain



Category: InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-13
Updated: 2017-12-07
Packaged: 2018-06-02 01:41:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 25,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6545272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImaniJoain/pseuds/ImaniJoain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kagome cannot help but try to fix anything she finds broken, even if it is not in her best interest to do so. When she comes across Sesshomaru in dire need of assistance, she cannot deny herself. She only hopes that he won't kill her for it. Contains explicit intimacy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chumbawamba (Tubthumping)

**Chapter 1: Chumbawamba**

 

 

_It's not that I'm drunk_ , Kagome told herself as she stumbled again, this time regaining her balance with the help of a young tree. _It's more that I'm...mellow._ A sigh, which morphed into a quiet giggle escaped her. _Mellow, and really, really clumsy._ It was only the second time she had ever drank sake – the first being in her own time at a cousin's wedding. She was pretty sure that the stuff they made in the feudal era must be stronger. At least, the bottle that Miroku had earned with his last 'exorcism' seemed unusually strong.

            They had been celebrating. It had been a year since Naraku's defeat, almost a year since Miroku and Sango had been married. No one had realized until they were setting up camp. Miroku was building a fire, Sango was helping Shippo fetch water, and Inuyasha was hunting. Kagome had pulled all of her bathing supplies out of her bag, and was looking for spices when her old school calendar book fell open on the ground. She pointed out the date to Miroku, and then to Sango and Shippo when they returned, and the others insisted that they celebrate. Sango and Kagome bathed quickly, and returned to camp to find rabbit meat had been added to the stew and Inuyasha had disappeared. Kagome felt terrible that she had been so thoughtless. It was also the anniversary of Kikyou's final death. The others tried to make her feel better. Miroku insisted that Inuyasha wasn't mad, he just needed some time to himself.

            The adults had a drink, then another. They ate dinner and told stories. After a few hours, Kagome was able to forget about Inuyasha's pain and her guilt. She was able to stop reminding herself that he had to be responsible for his own happiness. Shippo fell into the deep, sugar-crash sleep of youth, but the sake in their cups always seemed full and Miroku told jokes that would have made Kagome blush if her face wasn't already flushed from the alcohol. Sango would have hit him, if she hadn't been married to him and already learned that there was no correcting his behavior. The couple shared a long look, and then Sango, her voice breathless and low, had asked Kagome to check at the bathing site for a missing towel. It was a plea for alone time, Kagome knew. Familiar with the request, she nodded, as though she didn't know exactly what was going to happen at camp while she was gone.  She grabbed her bathing supplies as she left, knowing she might need to occupy herself for a while. A long while, if Sango's husky laughter had been any indication.

_At least the water will be relaxing,_ she thought. Kagome straightened and looked around. She was sure she should have come to the stream already.  She rolled her eyes in the semi-darkness of a full moon. The haze of sake allowed her to laugh at her own complete lack of direction rather than becoming frustrated. _Twenty more steps_ , she decided, _then I'll turn around and follow my own trail back._   She was pretty good at that, at least. Although it helped that she generally made a messy track of broken branches and deep scuffs in the dirt where ever she walked. Clumsiness had its virtues.

            She took another ten steps, and a low warning pulse of youki beat against her. Kagome pulled herself up sharply, her senses on alert. She stepped forward slowly, and the pulse came again, harder. It was clearly intended to keep others away, but there was something about it that called the miko forward. She stretched her senses carefully, and she thought perhaps it was the sake, but her reiki flowed easily and gently, looking for the source of the warning.

            A youkai. A massively powerful youkai. And it was in incredible pain.

            Kagome gasped at the intensity of what she sensed. How the creature had not died or gone insane, she couldn't imagine. Warning or no, the miko from the future could not allow anyone to suffer if she might be able to help. She pushed forward through a thicket, following the pulse of youki. A branch snapped at her palm, cutting her, and the pain distracted her from the moment that she reached a small clearing. Rather than shock, she was confused by the sight before her. A powerful youkai, indeed. A daiyoukai sat with his back against a tree and his legs arranged in a position of meditation before him. His eyes were slitted, so narrow they were almost closed save for a paper-thin opening of red that burned in an unfocused gaze. The combination of alcohol and sudden pain from the cut on her hand clouded her thoughts so that all she could manage to say was, “Sesshomaru?”


	2. Neil Diamond (Red, Red, Wine)

            He felt the approach of another, a human, and her scent reached him even in the still air of the forest. He was deep within his meditation, a state of absolute immobility that had taken him nearly two days to achieve. His mind had been locked in a hard fought place of quiet frustration – tranquility had proved unattainable even to him. There, deep inside himself and protected by a barrier of his youki, he was snapped into awareness by the subtle fragrance of carnations and dogwood. The scent - he was familiar with it and it gave rise to a tangle of emotions he had long labeled as irritated respect - broke the tenuous peace he had found and brought the agony of his body to his attention.

            He still could not move, his muscles purposefully frozen to prevent himself from acting on the burn in his veins and doing something he would regret. He managed to lift his eyelids a fraction, but they would go no further. Still, it was enough to see the Shikon priestess as she stumbled out of the bushes. Her shoes were scuffed and dusty, but the rest of her was clean. He had come to expect that. She seemed to only have two states of being: freshly washed or covered in gore from Inuyasha's latest kill.  She vastly preferred clean, and was willing to work hard to get that way – unlike most humans. That did not stop the urge to strangle her from rising as she spoke, “Sesshomaru?”

            Her voice was quiet, not the shrill scream she used for the hanyou, or the soft, smiling words she spoke to her human companions or the kit. Since they had become allies – only a short time ago, it seemed to him – she had used such a tone with him. Low, strong, and respectful. He had approved of it, as he had approved of her more modest clothing. The indecent skirt she had worn before had disappeared since Naraku's defeat to be replaced with garments that, while not appropriate compared to what other females wore, were still a vast improvement. Her thighs were at least covered, although her bare calves under a longer skirt or the curve of her bottom in strangely tight pants still drew lecherous stares, he had noticed and appreciated her attempt at modesty.

            Such clothing was not in evidence as she stepped closer, ignoring the barrier of youki he had created to repel other creatures as if it did not exist. Soft pants, if they could be called that, stopped only a few inches past the top of her legs. A thin blue shirt, paler than her eyes, with narrow straps hugged her breasts and did not quite meet her waistband, exposing a strip of creamy skin when she moved. A robe of darker blue hung open from her shoulders, the thin, attached obi hung uselessly to drag on the ground. “Sesshomaru?” she called softly again.

            Her concern only added to the way the sight of her angered him. He had no control over his body, but his mind was calling her every kind of fool for ignoring the warning of his barrier. He was not sure what it was about her that allowed her passage, but he would find out once he had regained control of himself and it would not happen again. Another step closer and sweet flowers and ripe berries whispered on the air between them.  His blood boiled, raging against the constraints he had placed on it.

            Every twenty-five years his blood felt the call. Every quarter-century since he had come into adulthood he spent one moon cycle fighting against his instincts, fighting the blood that flamed under his skin and tried to overtake his good judgment. Only three times had he intentionally given in. Always in situations carefully selected and controlled by him. The first had been instructional and therapeutic. The second diverting and cathartic, but then the female had attempted to become impregnated, violating their agreement – as if her devious actions would not be noticed. He was forced to burn his seed from her with acid, and it left him disgusted with his own lack of control. The third, several centuries later, had been poorly chosen. The bitch had attempted to mark him. She did not survive.

            After that, he had determined that he would spend such unfortunate times far from any other living thing. It had grown increasingly difficult over the last century to ignore his instincts.  During his last heat, he found that – although he was loathe to lower himself to try – he could not even ease his own pain. He had lost his reason to his beast for the last few days and had nearly assaulted a young youkai female.  After such an experience, he had prepared himself for the next heat. He trained his body and mind to enter a deep state of meditation – a fashion of hibernation that would keep his desires impotent and without the ability to take action. A barrier of his energy would protect his body from assault, and he carefully chose a location that was considered holy by most demons. It was anathema to their kind and unlikely to be stumbled upon.

            Rin had been left with supplies, Ah-Un, and his retainer. They were close enough to Edo that she could seek help from the humans there if necessary. He would never admit, even to himself, that he trusted his half-brother to protect his ward, but he had intentionally set her camp within Inuyasha's forest.

            All of that planning and preparation. A day of flying from his pack to this spot in the forest. Two days of meditating to reach a state where he could control his instincts. So much effort – wasted. He could already sense his beast beginning to work on the barriers placed around it. It would take time, perhaps several hours, before his blood had free reign, but then he doubted he would be able to cage it again. He almost hoped he would be free before the woman was frightened away. Perhaps he could kill her for her stupidity before he found a youkai female. If he committed rape, he would lay the blame at the miko's feet. _Foolish girl._

            “Are you injured?” She stepped closer, and he could smell the sake on her breath. The hot taste of it washed down his nose and throat, followed by her natural sweet scent and he hated her. Hated that his body, which had been eager for the heat since before he had begun his meditation, surged to life at the scent and sound of her. Unfortunately, one female seemed to be as good as another, as far as his blood was concerned. Human or not, the girl was present. Even if she had been swaddled in clothing and crying with fear, it would not have mattered. He realized grimly that he had overestimated himself. She was female and had a pulse. That would be enough.

            “Can you hear me, Sesshomaru?” She sank down on her knees before him, her legs inches from his. The concern on her face and in her scent was unavoidable. Something unfamiliar – _guilt_ , he wondered, and then pushed that thought aside – plagued him. He would devour her if she stayed nearby, and he was aware that she did not deserve that. She was foolish, naive and a little drunk. She was also ridiculously brave, loyal, and surprisingly intelligent. She did not deserve rape, and most likely death, at his hands.  He struggled to work up a growl to frighten her away, but his voice would not obey him.

            “I'm-” she swallowed hard and he watched her throat work, the smell of anxiety, but not fear, leeching into her scent.  “I'm just going to look for your wounds. Okay?” She watched him intently, and when he was not able to respond worry overcame her scent and she reached for his hands. She tried to remove his clawed fingers from his thighs, but his stiff muscles would not allow it. She muttered to herself, or perhaps him, he could not be certain, as she instead stroked along each arm, pushing up his sleeves as she went. “No blood, that must be good...unless it's not...internal injury...” She reached his shoulders with cool fingers and then withdrew. Next she carefully slipped her small hands behind his neck, leaning forward over his lap to feel his spine from the top of his armor, over the collar of his kimono, ghosting across the skin of his neck and into his hair. Her dull nails had a light touch on his scalp and he could not help but inhale her scent. The sensations combined to have his beast tugging at its restraints and licking its lips in anticipation.  Her fingertips found his ears and stroked down the outer edges, tracing his markings. Even his rational mind forgot for a moment that she was an inferior human who should fear him and instead wondered how the sensation could be made more enjoyable. _Perhaps if she used her tongue._

            Her whispered instructions to herself brought him out of his lapse in judgment. Her hands traced his collar bones and sternum until she met his bone armor. “Not moving...fracture...no...would have to be more serious...compound break...” She sat back on her heels and her hands moved to his feet. He did not understand some of her words, but it was clear she felt she would find a physical injury that could be healed. For both their sakes, he hoped she would not be so close – or anywhere within scenting distance – when his malady made itself known. Her eyes darted up to his again. “I'm sorry Sesshomaru, but I need to take off your boots. Is that okay?” He could not refuse her permission, and he doubted if she would have listened in any case. _Stubborn_ _woman_.

            She removed his boots and socks, then had the audacity to loosen the ties at the ankles of his pants. Her palms slid up his calves, leaving a stimulating chill in their wake, and he became aware of something else in her scent. A tart smell of embarrassment and something thicker. He could not place it immediately, and was aware that he had never been near her when she smelled that way before. It wrapped around his tongue, bringing his taste buds to attention before sinking down into his belly where it mixed with the heat that already plagued him. Her palms reached as high as his bent knees before she withdrew and studied him with concern. Her sake flush had spread from her cheeks to her slender neck, and his beast whispered to him that he could make it extend even further.

            “Punctured lung? Bruised liver...Inuyasha nearly died...” He felt a growl building without any encouragement from him at his half-brother's name on her lips. His logical mind wanted to groan in frustration. If his beast could not stand the thought of her speaking of another male, Sesshomaru doubted it would let her leave before it had taken her for its own. “He is so much stronger though...would Sesshomaru even notice injuries that lay Inuyasha out for a day?” He did not have time to consider how the comparison between himself and his brother swelled his ego. Her question ended with a sudden movement to sit at his side. She nearly fell over, in her inebriated state misjudging the distance. She crashed into him and the press of her curves against his arm sent his blood screaming. From the corner of his eye he watched her sway and press one hand to her head. “Never again, Kagome,” she whispered.  Her face was close enough to his that her breath stroked across his jaw. _Sake and sweet flowers._

            It took a few moments for her to regain her composure, and then her hands were on his armor. She hesitated briefly before ducking her head to meet his gaze. “I'm sorry a human has to touch you, Sesshomaru, I know you don't like it. But I will figure out what is wrong and help you.” Her determination was clear, and if he had been capable he might have closed his eyes in frustration. He did not want to hurt the miko, but the longer she stayed, the more likely it was he would lose all control. It was clear to him that his beast had scented a female it was interested in, and interest came closer to obsession with each touch of her hands and inhale of her scent. All because she could not bear to leave him if he was hurt. _Perplexing, stubborn woman._


	3. Tom T Hall (I Like Beer)

Kagome took a deep breath, trying to steady her hands. She blew out through her mouth, sending her bangs puffing into the air and hoping it would clear the warm fuzz that clouded her vision and her thinking. _If I hadn't been drinking, I might have already figured this out. If I hadn't been drinking, I might not have been brave enough to look for an injury_. That thought sent a wave of warmth sloshing across her skin. It sank into her and settled low in her belly. Smooth skin over steely muscles. Soft fur. Silky hair. Kagome tried to clear her head and focus on the important issue – something was very wrong with Sesshomaru. However, her mind seemed to wander off at the mental repetition of his name.

_Sesshomaru._

            There was no denying that he was gorgeous. Gorgeous and well-built and easily capable of inducing dreamy eyes in silly human girls whose hormones were raging. Or he would have been, if he wasn't also impossibly arrogant, cold, and downright mean sometimes. Of course, he had not been truly mean to anyone in her group since the defeat of Naraku. Even his attitude toward Inuyasha was different. Still cutting and superior, but he seemed to bait the younger demon more out of boredom than hatred. _And frankly_ , Kagome admitted to herself, _the superiority is well-deserved._ His fighting skills were excellent. His looks were without compare. _And his body..._ That made her blush even harder and she took another deep breath.

            Sesshomaru was hurt. Obviously. Or he would have moved, or spoken, at least grunted a condescending 'Hn' and ignored her. He had done none of those things. He was clearly aware of his surroundings; his slitted red eyes followed her movements even if he gave no other indication of life. She paused for a moment and felt for his pulse in his neck. Her eyes widened after several seconds without a beat, and then she felt it. And again, after several long seconds. She raised her wrist and concentrated on the dim face of her watch. “One...two...three...four...five...” The minute was up. Horrified, she met his gaze again. “Holy shit,” she whispered, “I hope that is normal for you, or this is really bad.” He showed no sign of hearing her, so she sat back on her heels again.

            “There must be something wrong. Poison or internal injury. If you'd been in a fight, there should be blood – not that you would ever get dirty. I mean – you're just that good, right?” His eyes met hers but he made no sound. “Okay, I have to remove your armor, and then,” she swallowed, her blush growing hotter. She mustered her determination, “I may have to remove your clothes to figure out what's wrong.”  She might have imagined it, but she swore his eyes darkened just a bit. Kagome ignored the little, hot, sex-deprived part of her nineteen year-old body that was practically drooling over the idea of a bare-chested daiyoukai. She did her best to pretend that she didn't have a knot of heat tightening low in her belly or that her pajama shorts weren't growing damp along the seam.

_Get it together,_ she thought furiously, _his skin is probably crawling with disgust at the thought of your human filth touching him._ The reminder of Sesshomaru's long-standing hatred of humans, and avoidance of physical contact – at least, any that didn't involve breaking his brother's jaw – did nothing to cool her. Kagome made quick work of the obi, folding it on the pile of fur next to his hip. She placed his swords gently on top. She brought her hands to his shoulder again and traced the edge of his armor until she found the fastening. Her fingers felt stupid; perhaps it was the strange buckles and knots, or perhaps it was the sake. Perhaps it was her imagination running rampant with the knowledge that she was about to get enough visual material to fuel her fantasies for years. 

            She might never have a boyfriend. It was difficult when everyone in the future thought she had shingles and a severe case of Crohn's disease. Almost everyone in the past thought she was either a whore, although she had done her best to change her image with more conservative clothes, or a holy miko beyond their reach. Miroku was married – and _ew_. Inuyasha was her best friend and was still mourning for her dead incarnation. _Double ew_. He had also walked in on her bathing shortly after Kikyou's death. Rather than embarrassment or interest, he had looked...sad. That had killed any lingering dreams of a happy ever after with Inuyasha. She couldn't imagine ever sleeping with someone who thought of a corpse when he saw her body. Sesshomaru might not like her touch, but he needed it. Her sake-fuzzed brain reasoned that there was no problem with enjoying her task, as long as she healed him in the process. 

            Finally, the knots seemed to fall apart and his spiked pauldron slid off. She barely caught it before it crashed into his lap.  His bone armor protected his chest, stomach, and groin, but the spike could have stabbed through his leg. Her breath left her in a rush as the weight pulled on her arms until her hands slapped against his legs. “How the hell do you wear this around?” she complained under her breath. She heaved it away, trying and failing to ignore the heat of his thighs against the backs of her hands.

            She slid her hand behind his back, searching for the ties of his chest piece. She finally found them under his arms, but since he would or could not cooperate, she found it difficult to get her fingers around the ties. With a hot blush she finally climbed into his lap so that she could get a good angle. “I hope that this isn't a poison, Sesshomaru,” she rambled. It did nothing to take her mind off of the intense heat of his body or the hard muscle of his leg where it pressed against her bottom. “I, ah, I don't have my first aid kit, so hopefully it is something simple. I mean, not that I would know for certain if it...” Her mouth kept moving, independent of her repeated commands to herself to shut up.

            The knots on one side came loose, and she tried not to focus on the warmth of his chest under the armor or the ridges of muscle that banded his ribs. She had no idea what she was saying, but a brief glance at his face confirmed that his eyes were still narrowed on her and had darkened even further. She swallowed hard and focused on her task. Bent over him, she was enveloped in his scent. Earthy musk, like a forest after a rain and the sharp taste of ozone. Lightning. She wondered if that was from him, or his sword. His temperature was high, much higher than would be safe for a human, but she wasn't sure what was normal for a youkai. Inuyasha and Shippo always seemed warm to her, so perhaps a daiyoukai of his power would be even more so. It was impossible to know, but that did not stop her from unconsciously leaning closer to him, as if trying to absorb his heat. She caught herself swaying at the same moment that the last knot was undone and she jerked backward. Kagome fell on her bottom, hard enough to hurt. The heavy weight of his armor knocked the breath out of her for a moment, so that all she could do was stare at what she uncovered.

            “Holy hell,” she finally whispered.

 


	4. Chapter 4: Joe Nichols (Tequila Makes her Clothes Come Off)

            She was still talking. Sesshomaru wasn't sure how she had the breath for it. Removing his armor appeared to be difficult. The weight was too much for a human – especially one as small as the miko – but still she kept talking. Unintelligible words about possible injuries she felt he could have sustained and conjectures on the comparative anatomy of humans and youkai. He would have scoffed at the mere thought of attempting comparison between one such as himself and a human, but her proximity and his rising need drew his interest to the subject matter. 

            He tuned out most of her babble and focused his eyes, the only part of himself he had any control over, on her lips. They were pink. Dark pink like the flowers she smelled of.  _Ripe enough to eat,_ his need whispered.  She pulled his spiked shoulder armor off and he felt a moment of concern that she would impale herself. The miko caught it at the last moment, but the weight pressed her hands against his thighs and his attention was drawn there. Even through his clothing, she felt sinfully cool against his overheated skin. He was aware that humans did not produce as much heat as demons. They were in danger of exposure from even a few hours of freezing temperatures. He had always thought of it as a weakness; but as his blood surged in a fiery maelstrom her cool touch felt both soothing and arousing.

            The leather laces that held his armor together used a particular knot that the miko did not seem familiar with. She uttered several strange curses as she tried to wedge her fingers between his arm and his ribs to untie them. No matter how she turned, she could not both see her hands and get her fingers in place. If she had abandoned hope quickly, he might have been able to forget the sweet relief of her cool hands or the lush press of her body. The miko was nothing if not determined. Her cheeks flushed red and she settled herself in his lap, her legs splayed on either side of his hips and her head bent to sort out the knots.

            Blood rushed from his head straight to his groin. The bone plates of his armor and mere inches of space separated him from her core. He recognized the thick scent of her arousal. It mixed with the slightly salty, sweet moisture that clung to her open legs. _She desires This One._ It was not his beast that whispered the thought, although that instinctual part of himself agreed with all the alacrity of an animal left in the desert for days and then offered the sight of a life-giving spring. His logical mind came to that conclusion, and he was not displeased. That brought confusion which only increased with the trails of need left by her gentle fingers on his ribs.

            First one side of his armor, then the other was worked free under her ministrations. The feel of her, the scent of her arousal and maidenly embarrassment, even the sound of her voice which had taken on a husky tone incited his heat to flare higher and his mind to drift. Without any encouragement from his baser self, he wondered what other differences existed between youkai and humans – beyond strength and temperature. Their anatomy was similar enough to produce half-breeds, but he wondered if the same touches, the same caresses with his hands and mouth that he had used to please demon females would be equally gratifying to the miko. Perhaps more so. She would, no doubt, not enjoy the bites and nips to display dominance – as a human the communication in such things would be lost on her and the pain would be unpleasant.  Humans kissed. With open mouths and tongues. It was rarely done among inu or youkai in general. Fangs were sharp and such displays of trust and intimacy were often reserved for mates or long faithful lovers. He had nothing to fear from her teeth, nor would she place undue importance on the act – not knowing what it portended among his kind. Sesshomaru knew he would enjoy her taste.

            He had only a moment to be appalled at the turn of his thoughts before the last tie came undone. Her success took the miko by surprise and the weight of his chest piece collapsed against her. It pushed her over, and she crashed onto her back, awkwardly bowed over his lower legs. She was staring at him, mumbling something, but the words meant nothing to him as he took in her position. She shoved the armor away and sat up on one elbow, eyes wide. Her bottom remained on the ground between his knees, the deliciously moist center of her only inches away. One bare, slender leg was looped around him, between his arm and thigh. The other lay over his opposite arm, the smooth flesh rubbing across the back of his hand. He would wonder later at her lack of hair, but the errant question was lost amid the sight of her. The miko's robe was cast wide open, her back forced into an uncomfortable arch that thrust the pebbled tips of her breasts out towards him in an invitation that he knew she had not intended. It enticed him regardless. The unblemished column of her neck was stretched to keep her head off the ground. Strands of hair had fallen from her high tail and traced the skin like beacons for his mouth.

            “No wonder you're in pain,” she whispered. In another time and place, if he were the type to allow his reactions to be displayed for others, he would have laughed at her stare. The white of her eyes showed all around the blue. Her mouth hung slightly open, her tongue darted out to wet her lips and he groaned. He tried to, anyhow. The constraints of his self-imposed hibernation hid that disgraceful response. Without the ability to move his neck, he could not look down to see what had her attention, but he did not need to. His member was harder, hotter, _greedier_ than he could ever remember, and under her gaze another surge of blood made it twitch. She made a sound somewhere between a breathy sigh and a shocked gasp.

            Sesshomaru was humiliated. This time, this state of his body, was the most undignified point in his life and it was being viewed by a human female with no concept of what instincts and honor had brought him too.  Worse yet, she inspired his blood, had become the focus of his urges. He would not relish her rape if such a thing were to occur when his beast finally broke free. However, there would be some measure of satisfaction in her eventual death at his hands – or, just as likely, his body. He would mourn the loss of such a powerful being. A creature of honor and one with a personal code. Still, it would be a balm to his pride to ensure that no one else would ever know how far he had fallen. 

            If he had the ability, he would have summoned his whip and killed her where she lay. He would have broken her neck for daring to view him as she did. For the crime of stirring his lust, he would have cut her heart from her chest. Instead he sat there. Ironically, impotent to kill as he desired, and potently desirous, to his shame.

            Her scent. His breathing had slowed during his meditation, but even the handful of inhalations he had taken since she had arrived were too many. _Sweet carnations._ He could almost taste their pink-purple color. He felt as though he lay in a field of the flowers, their smell coating his nose in a way he tried to tell himself was cloying, but had him breathing deeper to take in more.  _Dogwood._ The slender, hard branches of the shrub made excellent weapons and the fruit it bore was both tart and sweet. Like this female, a dichotomy.  Her blush matched the color of the berries. Sesshomaru felt certain her skin would have its flavor. He had always found her scent pleasant, but with his blood surging and his beast slavering for her he found the miko overwhelmingly delicious.

            She sat up fully, leaving her robe on the ground behind her; the sway and light bounce of her breasts drew his eyes from her lips and he could feel his mouth watering. “I could...” She cleared her throat unnecessarily and her eyes met his for the barest moment before she looked down.  Her blush intensified and her gaze darted from his groin to his hands, still firmly on his own thighs, to his face and back again before coming to a stop. The blue was intense. For all the cool refreshment of her skin her gaze seemed to burn. As she spoke, the lush fragrance of hibiscus grew thick on the air between them. “I could help,” she whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry this has been so long in updating. I have been working on an original project - but all of the comments I have received for my own work and my fanfiction have been so flattering and the advice incredibly helpful. I felt I just had to make the time to further this story. Thank you all.


	5. Chapter 5: Screamin' Jay Hawkins (I Put a Spell on You)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you again. Such great readers deserve two chapters in a row!

            “I could help.” Kagome couldn't believe she had offered, but the thoughts in her head seemed to fall out of her mouth without any direction. She wanted to blame it on the sake that was still fogging her brain, and probably messing with her speech filter, but she knew that wasn't the only reason. Not even the most important reason.

            She was alone. Not in a die-with-a-dozen-cats-and-they-eat-your-face-after-you're-dead kind of way, but in a way that made her long for intimate touch. It was shallow, and stupid, but she wanted someone to love her, not because she did not feel loved, but in a physical way. Because she wanted to share something hot and personal and hers alone with another person. She wanted that moment where she would know she was the most important thing in the world for someone else. It would be brief. With Sesshomaru, most likely brief and ending in death or at least maiming, but it would be real. He didn't _love_ her – that idea was downright certifiable – but with him she could be _that_ person. The _only_ person. Even if it was for a split second.

            She didn't belong in the future anymore. That was why she had continued coming to the feudal era when the well had not closed after the jewel was completed. She knew that she did not belong there, but as she helped Kaede in the village or occasionally traveled with her friends she wasn't sure she belonged in the past either. Everyone else was rooted - was alive and present in their time. She didn't feel like she had that. She wanted to feel alive. She wanted to be present. At least for one moment, she wanted to know where she belonged, with absolute certainty.

            If she needed philosophical and metaphysical affirmation, she might as well make certain it was also mind-blowing and universally unique. Touching Sesshomaru's naked body was as unique as it could get – especially since she doubted he let anyone live to tell about it. And it was assured to be mind-blowing. One of her future friends had told her if she was going to take a risk, particularly on a guy, she should 'go big or go home'.  Kagome was pretty sure she meant asking out a stranger in a bar, not helping the Killing Perfection orgasm. There was no bigger risk than stripping the famously human-hating daiyoukai and helping ease his _tension_. There was certainly no one bigger. Period. Of that Kagome was sure.

            The tent in his pants was almost frightening. Or it would have been if Kagome hadn't had just enough to drink to ease her fears, but still keep her mind focused on limits. She was a virgin, and even if she had felt comfortable ending that state with a one-night stand - _what a night it would be_ \- she had taken enough math to understand mass and acceleration. Although she couldn't have done the equation in her soused state, she still knew what was in his pants was not intended for beginners. She had no intentions of having sex with Sesshomaru. 

_Sesshomaru. Sex._

            That was enough to short-circuit her brain for a few seconds. No. She wasn't going to have sex with him, she was just going to help him out. Ease his pain. _He shouldn't be mad, honestly, I'm being totally Florence Nightingale self-less here,_ she tried to justify to herself. It didn't work.  She brushed her hands against her tank top and reached trembling fingers towards his kimono. She knew how hand-jobs worked. She was nineteen, for crying out loud. She listened to her friends, had seen movies, read romance novels. She understood erections. She had been waking up in a privacy-less camp with two teenage, or teenage equivalent, men for the better part of four years.  She had even had the misfortune to be knocked into Hojo at school once. He had apparently found her gym uniform quite appealing. She could help Sesshomaru, and once he had some blood free for other parts of his body, hopefully he wouldn't be paralyzed anymore. Hopefully it took long enough to kick in that she could make it back to camp before he could kill her.  That thought, of Sesshomaru chasing her through the forest, and catching her, sent another arrow of heat straight to her core. He used to really hate her, and he hadn't killed her then. He seemed to, if not like her, at least not want to murder her anymore. She prayed that worked in her favor.

_Quit stalling_ , she ordered herself. _If you are going to do this, do it, otherwise walk away._

            She found the knot of his datejime belt and quickly untied it and placed it with his obi. Kagome then traced the edge of his kimono lightly before slipping her fingers underneath. There she paused, her conscience heavy with the realization of what she was about to do. Her fingers absorbed the delicious heat of his skin. Their eyes met, and she blurted, “I hope you're okay with this. I mean-  I hope that this is the right thing to help you. I don't want you to be hurt, Sesshomaru. I don't want to think that you are stuck like this, hurt or paralyzed or whatever. Not if I could help.” She made a strange, high-pitched sound that she was sure hurt his ears but he did not flinch and she couldn't seem to stop herself from talking once she had started. “Not that I won't enjoy it. I mean, I'm curious – who wouldn't be curious, and you are, well, you're perfect. You know that. Of course you know that. But this isn't about what I think about you. I just want- I just-” She swallowed, hard, on the flood of words that were damming up behind her tongue. “I hope you don't feel...violated...but I think this will help you.”

            Saying it made it real, and suddenly Kagome knew, with absolute conviction, that she was doing the right thing. It was strange that this act would fall into the same category as repairing the Shikon, freeing Inuyasha, or trusting Sango and Miroku after they had tried to kill her. But she _knew_ that this act, this brief time with Sesshomaru was _right_. That realization eased her fears, allowed her to fall back into the sweet haze of alcohol and potent male, and she slid both hands under his clothing. Flattening her palms on his silk-covered chest, she pushed back the edges of his kimono. His fur followed it to rest on the ground behind him. His sleeves caught at his forearms, unable to slide further with his hands pressed against his legs.  Then she repeated the process with his white shirt. The thin, soft cloth of his undershirt followed and Kagome took a moment to admire his chest.

            There was a lot to admire. Pale skin was sculpted into musculature that Michelangelo's David would have been jealous of. Kagome wished, absurdly, that she had seen Sesshomaru shirtless before she had taken her biology class. Anatomy would have been a breeze with that kind of study guide. Trapezius that sloped from neck to shoulders, emphasized by smooth collarbones that begged to be traced with her tongue. She actually swayed forward before she caught herself. _This is for him, not your hormones,_ she told herself sternly. Deltoids, pectoralis major, biceps, obliques – they all made it easy to forget that tiny fact. That flimsy excuse that seemed real and true and _right_. Her palms remained on his chest and Kagome became hyper-aware of the texture of his nipples pressed against her skin.

            She forced her hands to drift down, tripping across the ridges of his abdomen. Her left index finger fell into the shallow hollow of his navel and she traced the edges before finding the nearly invisible trail of silver hair that disappeared into his pants.  The ties were difficult, but once she found a loose end they unraveled quickly. She sucked in a breath as she pulled down the waistband to gape across his lap. What she found sent a little sigh of frustration through her lips. She had forgotten about fundoshi – the long length of cloth that men in the feudal era used as underwear. To loosen it, she would have to find the end, and she was sure she knew where that would be.

            With nervous, excited fingers, she followed the skin along the top of the garment around his sides. The piece was styled not unlike a thick thong, twisted and tucked together before wrapping between his legs and up again to protect what had to be a painful erection. She had to lean close to him, bringing her face within inches of his skin to work her hands under the cloth in the back. Her questing fingers slid across smooth, hard glutes. _I always thought being able to bounce a quarter off of a tight ass was just talk, but_... Kagome had to bite her cheek to stop herself from grabbing a handful of flesh and squeezing. Her face felt hot and her breath heated the air between them so that she was breathing in warm, moist air that smelled like Sesshomaru and probably didn't have as much oxygen as she needed right then. Kagome had the feeling that if she saw or touched much more of him she would need a tank of the pure stuff to keep from hyperventilating.

            Finally, she found the end of the fundoshi, and with a sharp tug the cloth went lax and pooled around his hips.  She leaned back, letting one hand rest on his chest to keep herself steady while the other reached, trembling, for the last barrier between them.  “What the-” She pulled back her hand, looking up at him sharply. He was hot, unbelievably so, even through the cloth. It hadn't burned her, but it was a near thing. Kagome actually wondered if she would be able to handle him. _Get it together,_ she ordered herself sternly _. Imagine how it must feel for him, and the commercials always say an erection shouldn't last more than four hours._

            Modern science bolstered her courage, and she gripped him firmly through the material. He was hot, so hot, but also harder and larger around than she had imagined. Her eyes met his for a moment. The red splinters of his gaze, framed by white lashes that she could see from close up were long enough to inspire jealously in most women, had darkened again. Still, he made no sound, nor moved. She did see his focus flick down to his lap, then up to her face again.

            “I'll do my best, Sesshomaru. I've never...I mean...I know in theory how to...” She cleared her throat. “I will help you, and hopefully this will fix whatever else is wrong with you.” Her voice fell to a whisper as she dragged the cloth away. It caught for a moment on the swollen tip of him, then slid away to reveal him fully. She had to lick her lips before she could finish, so quietly she wasn't sure she had actually spoken, “Just don't kill me if I enjoy this more than you.”


	6. The Stooges (1970) (S)

The woman was babbling nervously about violating him, and if Sesshomaru hadn't been ready to leap out of his own skin, he might have been tempted to snort at her stupidity.  Her fingers traced his clothing; cool digits leaving icy wakes along his heated skin as she disrobed him.  _Foolish, foolish miko._  It was as it had always been. She was truly selfless. He would not have said such a thing could be true about any creature before he had met her. Even afterward, in the years he had known her, encountered her strange behavior again and again, he was not sure he had believed it.  And yet, she sat in his lap, assuring him she would ease his pain. She worried for _him_. She smelled of guilt and spoke of violation as if she could not possibly see the only threat present was to her.

            When her hands finally reached his bare skin he took an involuntary breath. Her scent was delectable. The clean, fresh fragrance that was her was soothing to his senses, even while it stirred his blood further.  The thick, honeyed scent of hibiscus – her arousal – lay on his tongue like a potent drug. He wanted to lap at her skin to find more of it. He, _Sesshomaru_. Not his pacing beast. His blood was driving him, but it was her scent, familiar and foreign, that intrigued the daiyoukai beyond mere instinct to rut.

            Her fingers traced the muscles of his torso, dipping into his navel and following the arrow of hair that led to the part of him that most ached for her touch. She took too long with the ties – and not long enough.  A part of him still hoped that she would see reason. Sesshomaru urged her, in a dark corner of his mind, to forget her need to help and to flee. To see the obvious danger to herself and leave him.  His pants fell loose onto his lap and even that quiet voice in him fell silent.

            Her sigh puffed against his skin, fragrant with sake and not nearly as close as he would have liked. Her frustration with his fundoshi was obvious, and would have been amusing if he were not far beyond frustrated.  It also sparked another concern for his suddenly, strangely, possessive instincts.  He wondered what experiences had brought the miko to expect a male would not be wearing an undergarment. That thought was followed quickly by the question of where she had learned to unwrap such a cloth.

            And it was clear she was aware of the fundamentals of male dress.  She leaned further over him, her mouth dangerously close to his skin, to slide her hands underneath him.  The refreshing touch of her palms on his backside relieved the heat of his flesh only until his body reacted, sending blood pounding to his veins in response to her proximity.  She paused for a moment, and he could not decide if he feared the indignity of her kneading those chill fingers into him, or if he would become completely insensate if he did not experience her body against his immediately.

            When the cloth came loose and she reached for him – only to pull away – a snarl built in his chest.  He could not even release _that_ tension as it stuck behind his immobilized throat. The frustration was over quickly, and replaced by the first hint of relief he had experienced for his condition in centuries.  Her hand, so small and delicate, wrapped firmly around his girth. The fire in him crashed into her like magma reaching the sea. Still, his blood pulsed to replace it from the bottomless well of need that yawned inside him.  His gaze, drawn to the sight of her, so close to easing his pain, flicked up again to meet her eyes. He was held by those blue depths, once again, tantalized by the image of an ocean wave, leeching heat from the shore as it caressed the beach.

            She apologized for her lack of experience, which, helpless to respond as he was, Sesshomaru found amusing.  Amusing that she would be concerned that she could not pleasure him adequately, when he knew that – had he not been trapped within his own mind – he would have pinned her to the ground already and taken his pleasure multiple times.  It would not have mattered what skill, or even interest or lack thereof, she had shown. 

            Lack of interest was not an issue. He was grateful, as unfamiliar and humbling as such an emotion was for him. Grateful that, for at least a short while, she was enjoying - even desiring - to touch him. He knew with a certainty that blackened the edges of his mood, that such desire would die a quick death if he found her after he had regained use of his body. The blood-called lust of a daiyoukai was not a thing to be born lightly – or at all for a human that had not received rigorous preparation.  Even then, the death of the human was likely – from exhaustion if not the vigor of the acts themselves.

            He had only a moment to reflect that her lack of experience also pleased something thereforto unknown within him; it stroked his ego and caused his beast to purr in anticipation. Then she was removing the cloth. His body cried out at the loss of her touch, but the expression on her face as his member was exposed nearly made up for it. The tip of her pink tongue darted out to wet her lips and her eyes were wide and glassy with the same desire that created another surge of scent around them: hibiscus and salt that made saliva pool in his mouth.

            “Just don't kill me if I enjoy this more than you,” she whispered. He would not have heard if it weren't for his demonic ears; as it was he wanted to laugh outright at the suggestion that she could do anything to him that would not result in his release. As things were, he felt that he would explode at the merest touch of her bare hand on him.

            Such shaming quick release was not his fate. He was not sure if it would have been preferred to a drawn out experience that he knew - from centuries of living with the curse of his heritage, of living with the inherent need to mate and procreate - would only be followed by a nearly instant resurgence of his blood.  The longer the first release was delayed, and his had been avoided for nearly two centuries, the more times he would have to take his pleasure before he would be able to rest. Even then, his blood would continue to call to him, shouting louder with each passing hour, until he gave in. Again, and again, and again. Until a moon cycle had passed and his blood settled into dormancy for another quarter century.

            She wrapped her hand around him, and a groan, a growl, a shout of absolute gratification clawed at his lungs for liberation. She did not meet his gaze again, but her grasp grew firmer, more sure.  Her free hand left his chest, ghosting down the skin to find the base of his need. She circled there - testing or teasing, he was not certain and did not care – before slipping between his legs to cup his sac in her hand. A sound, something halfway between a groan and a growl, escaped his throat and was trapped behind his teeth.  She gasped, her eyes flying to his and her hands withdrawing.

            “I didn't- should I have – ah-” Her embarrassment was acute, and she shifted in her seat between his legs. “I am so sorry! This was no- I, ah-” She looked as though she might try to stand, and Sesshomaru, for perhaps the first time in his long life, ignored his pride. He held her gaze, and then slowly, meaningfully, stared at his cock.  She still seemed uncertain, so he repeated the action, until her eyes followed his. It was only a moment, but trapped in his burning body it felt like an eternity.  His thick length was an angry purple, flush with blood and lust and twitching in a demand for her attention. Her pale hand inched toward him again, her eyes flicking between his prominent need and his face.

            “If you're sure...I mean,” she whispered, biting her lip in a way that made him want to do the same. And then suck it into his mouth to soothe the hurt his fangs would cause. To heal her bleeding wounds with his saliva and probe her cavern, drawing her taste into him and forcing her into fluid submission. Her lips would fall open easily when he was done, panting and eager for more. “I don't want to hurt you further, or – or – make things...weird.” He wasn't sure what she considered weird that did not also include stripping a powerful, deadly youkai alone in the woods and catering to his desire, but he did know that if she did not cease her prattling insecurities and touch him again he would kill her. Or himself. Possibly both. They would not be the first couple to rut themselves to death, it had been known to happen on rare occasions, but he felt that they would certainly be the most spectacularly violent. And noisy, given the woman's ceaseless chatter.

            Then her right hand, the first two fingers lightly calloused from her bow string, wrapped around him again. The evidence of the use of her weapon dragged against his skin in an agonizing pleasure that had him holding his breath. Still, she continued to talk, and he did not care. Did not listen either, her words were filed away somewhere deep in his mind but ignored in the moment so that he could focus his entire attention on her thumb where it smoothed over his head. She traced the edge of his foreskin, the light motion tantalizing and leaving him throbbing. “Yuka's sister's video did not make it look this big,” she whispered. Her legs tightened around him, her feet slipping out of her shoes so that her stockinged toes dug into his flanks, as she leaned closer to him.  Her core – he could smell her desire, almost as strong as his own, see the evidence of it in the damp spot on her clothing – it pulsed with heat so close to him.  If she shifted, just the smallest fraction, she would brush against him. 

            She cupped him with one hand while the other slowly dragged down his length, pulling the skin with it until his member was entirely exposed. Ridges of veins, throbbing and pulsing, ran from the base to the sensitive lip of his head. The tip, the aching, aching tip, was crowned with a clear bead of liquid. Her index finger traced the hole there, smearing the drop on both their skin and making his member bob – eager for more. “The magazines say no,” she muttered to herself, staring at the thin film on her finger, “but the girl on the video made it seem...” her voice died away, and her left hand squeezed him, reflexively he assumed - when he could think past the intense pleasure of the motion - as her right hand left his skin. “Just a taste...” He did not have time to anticipate her action before the wet finger disappeared past full, pink lips.

 


	7. The Doors (Roadhouse Blues)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> N/A: It has been a while, but thank you for sticking with me. My original work is taking up a great deal of time, but you have all been so generous with your praise - and I appreciate the honest criticism - so I had to post again for Heated Blood. I did have a reader ask if there are specific songs in mind for each chapter, and there are. There isn't any need to listen to them before or after reading, but I do think they help set a tone. I hope you enjoy Chapter 7!

           

 

          There was something hypnotic about the sight of him.  His penis – Kagome stumbled over the word in her mind even as her fingers continued to caress his skin without any conscious direction from her – looked hot and thick and supernatural in a way that made her mouth water and the muscles in her thighs clench.  She knew she was talking. She wasn't even sure what she was saying or why, but her mouth kept moving, sound flowing out, stumbling, tripping over her tongue while she slipped her hand down to cup him. 

            His skin was silky. Unbelievably so. She ran her fingers from the head to the base, pulling back his foreskin and marveling at the feel of him. Hot silk. So hot it would no doubt burn her if it went up even one more degree. And hard. She understood the physiology that she held, the spongy tissue that could become engorged with blood to establish an erection.  The reality was much more fascinating and lust-inducing than any biology text. Even having endured sex education and anatomy classes, she still found it hard to believe that his member wasn't actually made out of steel – or at the very least bone.  She squeezed gently, and then more firmly when he repeated the growling, groaning sound that she had interpreted as enjoyment. 

            A bead of precum pearled on the tip, and she traced the edge of his head lightly.  She had read somewhere that ejaculate was salty and viscous. Yuka had said it was the texture, not the taste, which made blowjobs worth avoiding. However, in the one porn she had seen, the girl had looked like she could not get enough of the substance. She had sucked on the other actor like her life depended on it – and so did her orgasm.  In any other circumstance, Kagome might have realized that porn actresses were paid to have just such a reaction. In any other circumstance, she would not have been brave enough to find out for herself.

            Kagome was drunk. She was alone in the woods with Sesshomaru. A nearly naked, completely exposed, very aroused Sesshomaru. This was not _any_ other circumstance. _Nothing ventured_ , her mind whispered, tracing the hole at the end and reveling in the heat of the thin liquid that coated her skin. “Just a taste...”  She wrapped her lips around her index finger and licked. It was slightly salty, but not what she had imagined. The texture was not quite what Yuka had described, but it was the little shock of energy that made her eyes widen and shot desire straight between her legs. His youki – for she could not mistake it as anything other than the power that he exuded even when he was standing still – was infused in the liquid. It burned as she swallowed – reminiscent of the sake from earlier – and curled in her belly where it pulsed with need.

            Her eyes fell closed, she could not help it. The throbbing heat inside her made her shift and squirm as though searching for something. Logically, she knew what her body wanted, but reason had been bitch-slapped, hog-tied, and locked in a dark closet the moment she realized exactly what Sesshomaru's problem was. She wanted to help him. She really did. Kagome told herself that she needed to get back to work; she needed to help him find release so that he could get better and she could move on.  Her brain had the information, orders ready for her muscles to carry out: cup balls, pump shaft, squeeze gently, repeat.

            Whatever electrical signals that should have given those orders out fizzled and died when they ran into the remnants of demonic energy swirling through her. She moaned and shivered, and her legs brushed across the bare skin of his hips and ribs. The smooth texture sensitized every nerve ending she had, forcing her to rock forward. Hard heat brushed against the seam of her shorts and Kagome's eyes flew open just in time to abandon her light grasp on his testicles and brace herself against his chest. She stopped, her mouth less than an inch from his down turned face, her finger still between her lips with her tongue wrapped around it.  She stared into his narrowed eyes, so dark they appeared nearly black, and slowly pulled back her right hand.

            A quiet popping noise filled the space between them as her wet finger left her mouth.  She held it there, frozen in his gaze, suspended between them, before brushing across his own pale lower lip. She wasn't sure what crazy, suicidal impulse drove her to do it, but she could not stop there. His heat was scalding her, urging her to grind against him, and it took everything she had to hold her hips still. Her hands, however, seemed to have a will of their own.  The rough callouses she had earned from years with a twanging bow string caught and pulled lightly on his lips before following the edge of his mouth to caress one magenta stripe.  Her left hand, the palm flat against him, slid down his chest, pressing once – firmly – against his pebbled nipple and feeling the singe it left on her skin before questing lower to grasp him again.

            She did not look away, nor did he, as she wrapped her fingers around his length and began a steady rhythm.  The fingers on his face found the end of his stripe where it met his ear and she traced the shell of it to the pointed tip. _What would his skin taste like_ , she wondered. _If I licked his lips, would I taste his smell._ So close to him his scent invaded her. Clean and clear like mountain water. A grassy, almost fruity fragrance of juniper berries. All of it so hot and overwhelmingly erotic. _Or would I taste his youki_ , she continued to herself. Lightning and ozone. She was lost in the feel of him, and her eyelids fluttered. His hair slithering through her fingers. His hard length – it felt nearly fused to the skin of her hand, it was so hot and needy. The deep, demanding, almost threatening, absolutely erotic sound he had made before vibrated his chest and pelvis again and passed into her where they touched. A breathless, keening moan escaped her and her eyes closed. _More, please, just more,_ her thoughts begged. _Please help me – help me end it._ She hoped it would never end. The muscles deep inside her clenched - destitute, begging - and slick moisture dripped down her thighs to seep into the material of her pajamas.  It welded the cloth to the sensitive skin of his sac and dripped onto the earth below them.

            Her right hand joined her left; she traced his head with her fingers while her palm continued to stroke him. Faster, tighter. Something in her was coiling as well, and she was drowning in sensation.  She leaned forward again, just brushing their mouths together, before she collapsed back on one elbow. The jarring sensation of her joint hitting the ground outside of his leg forced her eyes open but it was distant and easily forgotten as the volume and depth of his sounds increased. She was breathing heavily, and she sat up once more, drawn to the sight of a thick white drop beading on his head.  She captured it on her fingers and sucked them into her mouth as if she was starving for the taste. And she was. Electricity exploded on her tongue and wound the taut coil within her further, nearly to the breaking point. She cried out in frustration – _so close_ \- to what she could not have said - but eager for more. Moisture leaked down her cheeks, but she ignored it, focused on the scalding pulse of him. His eyes bore into hers, and she pushed herself up to capture his lips with hers. The swift motion ground her most sensitive nerves against him and caused her hand to slip, dragging her thumb down the front of his shaft and squeezing. _Yes!_


	8. Chapter 8: Pussycat Dolls (Bottle Pop)

She was speaking again, but he did not think she realized it. For the first time, the mindless chatter of another being did not bother him. Not while she was touching him, not while she had so obviously enjoyed the taste of him. He was surprised when she sucked his fluid off her fingers. Not that he was unaware of oral sex. His first partner had been carefully chosen for her experience and quiet renown as an instructor.  However, it was an act that was intimate and required immense trust between partners – something he had not experienced since that first call of his blood.  He had also understood many species of youkai, which did not have the nuance for scent and gustation that inu did, to find the act less than pleasant. 

            That assumption was apparently false as far as humans were concerned. Or perhaps it was only the miko.  The sounds she had made, the expression of complete satisfaction and revelation, would have been enough to make him surge to readiness if he had been nearly dead. As it was, the experience killed any vestiges of honorable thought or guilt over her impending death at the whims of his blood.  He no longer fought his beast, but began to actively help him dismantle the walls constructed around his instincts.  She was close to him, staring at him, her breath puffing against his mouth and when he inhaled he smelled her – and himself on her tongue – while he ripped at the mental bonds he had placed on himself. 

            She smoothed her hand along his markings, tracing his sensitive ear. At the same time she found his member and began to stroke again, all the while talking, whispering, driving his need higher as she murmured to herself, “What would his skin taste like?” She might never know. Once he was free, he knew she would be flat on her back, or have her cheek pressed against the grass, or pinned to a tree or whatever surface was available while he licked every inch of her.  She spoke of his scent, and he breathed in hers again. It clouded his mind even while it focused his compulsion. “Would I taste his youki?”   Her rhythm increased and he could feel his end nearing. The tightening of his sac, the hardening of his body in preparation for his finish.   She was pressed against him, and her heat rivaled his own there. He imagined the slick clasp of her body instead of her soft hand and an urgent snarl reverberated in him. Her fingers circled his tip, tracing the screaming points of perception that pulled his seed forth, ready to spill.

            “More, please! Just more!” He agreed with her, even as her words fell into nonsensical statements and her body jerked against his. She captured the liquid that her touch had summoned and licked it into her mouth.  He watched her pink tongue search out every last speck and her reaction was so deeply erotic that the ability to form thoughts escaped him. She surged forward and he wanted to ravage her lips, taste himself on her. She was crying, but the pain of longing was forgotten for them both when her body ground against his. She stiffened, and her hand found the perfect spot to make his body explode.

            “Yes!” She called out in a whispered scream and every muscle, every tissue, every bone in him concurred violently. His eyes closed of their own accord, and later he would curse that he had not captured every moment of her release, but the pleasure was too intense for sight. White light exploded behind his lids and blinded him. Heat surged through his veins and centered on the place where they were crushed together before he erupted. It was visceral and overwhelming and all consuming.  It left him devastated and liberated. He had never experienced anything even remotely similar. He was not sure he would have survived if he had. He was not certain he had survived at all.

            When his eyes opened again it was to take in her body, chest heaving and gasping for air, as she once again lay back over his legs.  Her breasts were thrust high, but even the creamy mounds that peeked over the top of her shirt had not escaped his release. His seed coated her chest and belly; it was sliding thickly down her short pants to meet the large, wet stain made by her own body between her legs.  The sight of their combined passion was startling, beautiful, and right in a way that he refused to examine until his mind had recovered from what she had done to him.   Her flesh was pink across her cheeks and the column of her throat. He silently admired the contrast between her blush and the white evidence of his ecstasy.

            He still could not move, but he found that he was close to breaking completely free of his meditative state.   He had complete control over his eyes, and his breathing and heart rate had returned to normal – or what he assumed was normal in the predatory stillness that followed the most fulfilling carnal act he had ever participated in.  He estimated it would be an hour, no more than two, before he would be in complete control of himself. That deadline did not bode well for the miko.  Whenever he had answered the call of his blood, it had taken far less time than that for him to claim the selected female to sate him again.  There was no possible way for her to get far enough from him in that time that his beast would not track her and force her to give and receive more pleasure than her fragile body could handle.

_Then again..._

            He examined himself, even as he watched her shiver in the cool air that was drying the fluids on her clothing. He felt remarkably calm.  His interest was still in abundant evidence. He was sure he could have taken her, forcefully and for an extended period, right then if his limbs would obey him. However, it was not essential. _Hn. That is...unexpected._ Never before had he felt so tranquil after an interlude of wanton behavior. The act itself had not been new to him, but his response was.  The only variable was the female. Her actions. Her enjoyment. Her scent and feel - and taste. Even now he could taste her as his tongue rubbed against the inside of his closed lips. He was eager for more, but it was not critical. He wondered how long the effect would last. And if it could be repeated; he wondered if he enjoyed her body again would he be sated as well as he was currently.

            She sat up on her elbows, her eyes dark blue and heavy lidded. Her hair was mussed, how it had happened he did not know, and slipped over one shoulder. An inky lock was in danger of dipping into her cleavage and the sticky mess that resided there. She stared at him for a moment, a dazed, well-sated smile tipping up the corners of her mouth. Then her mind seemed to gain clarity once more.  Her eyes widened, and she scrambled backwards out of his lap, catching herself on the pile of her robe and nearly kicking him in the chest in her haste.  He was not sure if she should be admonished for her clumsiness, or for attempting to remove herself before he was finished with her - either way she needed  to be informed of her error, but he still could not speak.

            As usual, she filled the silence. “Sesshomaru! I'm so- I mean- you...” Her voice drifted off and her eyes fell to his lap.  Blood rushed to her face in an amusing display of modesty.  “That was- ah,” she cleared her throat. “You appear to be feeling better,” she said finally.  Her eyes met his, and he was impressed, given the waves of anxiety and embarrassment that flooded her scent, that she did not flinch.  “Did it help?” He considered how to answer her, and if he should even bother.  She would go or she would stay. Either way, he would follow her as soon as he was able. If she was lucky, she would survive the experience. It seemed possible, considering his newly found ability to temper his desire in the wake of their intimacy.  Perhaps, allowing her a few hours of rest – a few hours where she would not have the burden of understanding the depth of his instinctual drive and her unshakable role in it, perhaps that would be kindest.

_Kindest._ Not something he had ever given much consideration for. Still... He blinked, once. Slowly. She bit her lip and worried the already swollen skin between blunt white teeth.  He reminded himself to soothe her abuses before nipping that flesh with his fangs. “Does that mean yes? Er, if that is a yes, would you do it again, please?” He obliged her, blinking, and she offered a grin. Her bubble of joy and accomplishment popped quickly and she was back to stammering and not meeting his eyes.  “Okay, well, that's...ah, that's good.” She staggered to her feet, her robe held away from her body in one hand. “I'll ah, just leave you...” She glanced at him once more, then sighed.  Her robe was cast onto the bag she had dropped not far away when she first saw him and she crouched beside him.  “I'll just – so you're not...” She tugged his pants over his still-softening member, but did not tie them.  Her clean hand, she held the one sticky with his seed away from their bodies, brushed against his chest as she pulled his layers of shirts over his shoulders and twitched them closed. “In case someone should come by,” she excused herself.

            Even if he were able, it would have been pointless to explain about his barrier. After all, she had walked through it as if it were non-existent. Strangely desirable mikos notwithstanding, he very much doubted anything else would be brave enough, or stupid enough, to attempt to approach him – and if they did, his youki would not allow the impertinent creature to live very long.  She muttered strange half-apologies and well wishes while she backed away, nearly falling over her own bag.  She seized it with her clean hand, and with an awkward, shallow bow and a breathless, “Sesshomaru-sama” she disappeared back through the brush, across the clearing from where she had arrived and towards the river.  He followed her progress with his senses, noted when she stopped at the water to bathe herself, listened to her distant mutterings and occasionally made out a few words, “stupid”, “outrageous”, “porn star”, and “stain stick”.

            Even after she had finished and left his hearing range he continued to consider her. She seemed to believe that their encounter was over, and that if he met her again he would most likely kill her – out of disgust, outrage, or both.  Her thoughts did not matter. She would realize the truth of things soon enough.  His hand twitched on his leg, followed by the other limb, and a tiny smirk – one that had foretold death to a few very unfortunate souls – twitched his mouth.  Soon he would seek the woman out. Soon she would learn why warnings existed to let sleeping inu lie. 

            She would be his for the month.


	9. Montell Jordan (Get It On Tonite)

Sesshomaru stood at the edge of a small clearing, his youki and scent restrained to keep from alerting those sleeping on the ground before him.  He recognized the odors of the monk and slayer, intermingled in an unmistakable sign that they had been sexually intimate recently. His gaze slid across the twin lumps under a shared bedroll and settled on the fox kit.  The kitsune slept deeply – lying on his back in a nest of soft blankets and crinkly wrappers with his mouth open and the strong, saccharine smell of the miko's candy on him.  It was the sleep of a growing youkai, one that would only be disturbed by the pulse of youki, or the alarmed aura of his pack, warning him of danger.

            Finally, Sesshomaru's eyes rested on the miko.  The futon she had carried with her while they had traveled together – so briefly, so long ago, and yet not – was in evidence.  He could see nothing of the female except a wave of black, silky hair that spilled from inside her covering. Carnations and dogwood emanated from her and tugged on the fire that yet coursed through his veins.

            It had taken less time than he expected to break free of his meditation.  The moon was still high and it had not been long since the miko had finished cleansing herself at the stream when he was at last able to stand and swiftly right his clothes.  He found it unnecessary to waste time cleaning himself – as his seed had landed entirely on the woman.  The memory of her flushed skin and hooded eyes might as well have been prey racing across his path, or a feast laid out before one starved, considering the way his beast reacted.  It tensed, still and predatory inside him, while it examined her scent.  It would have lunged for her, but Sesshomaru refused the action.

            He was mildly surprised when his beast obeyed.

            The heat still flowed in his blood. But it did not boil. His control was slipping; he could ascertain that much, but not how quickly it would disappear altogether.  Still, the experience was one that he wished to test. _Multiple times. This night._   For some reason - perhaps some implausible combination of female, meditation, and long denial of his own cravings – he had dominance over his instincts in the wake of their act. Sesshomaru had always, at least since his second heat, dreaded – or more accurately, detested – the weakness brought by the Call.  It was not the carnality or the intimacy of the actions taken in heat, although the latter was not entirely preferable, that disturbed him. It was the inability to determine his own behavior and will; the knowledge, the deep-seated feeling, that he was powerless over something as insubstantial as his desires was galling and loathsome.

            His reasons for denying himself and entering the meditative hibernation were moot.  His beast was free; and it would force his logical mind into a state of helpless darkness while it glutted itself with the miko's body if Sesshomaru did not take steps to ensure continued satiation. _The miko will enjoy the experience._ His thought was both an observation and a promise. He could still smell her arousal on himself. She had stained him with her scent: his lips, his chest, the skin made damp by her own liquid while she tasted his. She found him desirable, and he had the skill to ensure that she would be far too occupied with the sensations he could draw from her body to be distracted by annoying human emotions such as guilt, shame, and embarrassment.

            His decision had been made before he reached the clearing. Sometime in the moments between his completion in her hands and her leave-taking, he had decided she would be his for the duration of his Call.  One month. One cycle of the moon.  Twenty-seven nights remaining.  He had only to remove her from her companions without provoking an argument with his irritatingly protective half-brother or the humans.  Arguments would lead to an uninspired and tedious sparring match. Which would inevitably lead to the hanyou's blood on the ground. _Then the miko would rush to the pup's side..._ A growl rose in his throat and Sesshomaru forced it back.  The sound would have woken the pack.  More importantly, it was another sign that his beast had laid claim to the miko's body. Sesshomaru was still in control, and as much as he disliked his sibling, he would not slay him over a female. No matter how lush and delicious. If for no other reason than his instincts would demand it, he refused to permit them to draw the pup's blood. The daiyoukai would be master of everything he desired, including himself. Including the woman.

            The miko would belong to him and no other until the next full moon – or she expired from exhaustion, whichever event occurred first. He would not allow her to choose another over him. The very idea of the human woman, any female, _considering_ that he might be in competition with another, any other, _especially_ Inuyasha, was ridiculous. Ridiculous and infuriating. There was no competition. Would never be. Sesshomaru was superior. Perfection.

            A smirk, something darkly lustful and searingly unforgettable, flashed in the shadows. She had already admitted his perfection. Admired it. While she had her legs wrapped around his waist and her hands on his bare flesh. If she survived the passion he would incite in her, the intensity he would burden her with, then she would know, without any room for doubt, that his perfection was absolute.

            Sesshomaru tested the air again. The hanyou was far upwind of the clearing.  He was close enough to hear any screams or cries for assistance, but not to smell an intruder among his pack. _Foolish_ , _to leave those under his protection. To leave her_. Even if a disturbance alerted him, it would take Inuyasha precious minutes to return. Sesshomaru would be far away, his scent erased by water, wind, and youki by the time the miko's absence was noted. The daiyoukai could not formulate a reason why his uncouth sibling would have removed himself from the others, but it only eased the capture of his prey.  He slipped around the fire, staying close to the edge where grass blended into undergrowth and trees. The smoldering fire crackled, the sound loud in his preternatural ears, but none stirred. 

            The female slept soundly. _Spent_ , he thought arrogantly. _Inebriated_ , he reminded himself. He shouldered her worn yellow bag and slid both arms under the woman – picking her up inside her bedroll.  He was distantly aware of how difficult the task would have been had his arm not regenerated when he created his sword.  At the time, he had thought only of how his combat skills would be improved with two hands.  Breathing deeply of pink flowers and red berries, he considered that the disability would have hindered his power to bring pleasure as well. He made a mental note to inform the miko so that she might admire his ability to regenerate, and so that she could properly thank him for the experiences he would give her as a result. 

            As he stalked away silently, his footfalls hidden by youkai grace and speed, he discovered his own private joke. Although he had reevaluated many things in recent years, his was still the path of conquest. He admired the soft black wave that spilled across his white sleeve and the pale pink curve of an ear that was revealed by the shifting bag. The miko slept on, unaware that she was the next to be conquered.


	10. Kelly Rowland (Kisses Down Low)

**Chapter 10: Kelly Rowland  
**

 

 

            It was cold. Kagome shivered and twitched, hoping to pull her sleeping bag higher over her head.  “Stop hogging, Shippo,” she muttered.  No snuggling ball of fur answered her, instead another brush of chill air made her shiver.  She frowned, trying to hold onto the fuzzy darkness of alcohol-induced sleep that was quickly slipping away.  Her eyes didn't want to open, and her brain was just as convinced that it would be far better to turn over and ignore the draft in her sleeping bag in favor of slumber.  Some sleepy, illogical part of her mind reminded her that she wouldn't have been cold if she hadn't been forced to sleep in nothing but her robe.  Her only pair of pajamas had required a thorough scrubbing to remove the evidence of her encounter in the woods and still hung, dripping, over a bush at the edge of the campsite.

            A trail of prickling heat began at her collarbone and danced down her skin. She blinked once, twice, staring uncomprehending into the darkness before realizing that there was something shadowy looming over her. Something blocking the light of the full moon and limned in silver. “What...” Fear was rising inside of her, but it hadn't quite caught up to her brain, distracted as she was by alcohol and the strange tickle that continued across her sternum and down her belly. Narrow filaments of warmth and sensation circled her belly button and dipped inside. The prick of something sharp made her gasp and triggered a tightening of the muscles deep inside her.  Her mouth fell open, and Kagome couldn't have said whether she was preparing to scream or moan, but any sound was cut off.

            Smooth skin brushed across her mouth. Lips whispered against hers, “You claimed you would help This One,” warm breath puffed against her and she sucked in air that tasted like the forest and made her think of sex. “Your task is not complete, Miko.” It took a second, one brain-freezing, uncomprehending, alternate-reality second – and then Kagome remembered her own words. _I offered to help Sesshomaru,_ she thought. Then his lips pressed against hers, and all she could think was his name, in various degrees of shock and wonder.

_Sesshomaru. Sesshomaru? Sesshomaru!_

            “Ah,” she gasped when his tongue darted out to trace the inner edge of her lower lip. He was hot - not uncomfortably, but meltingly, beautifully hot. He found the corner of her mouth and then thrust forward, sweeping in along her cheeks and teeth, finding her own tongue and stroking – encouraging a response. She didn't have one. Not in that moment, or the moment after. Or the moment after that. All she had was feeling. Sensation. He pulled her lower lip into his mouth and sucked, harder than she expected. Not that it was expected at all.

            His claws continued their journey. Around her bellybutton, across the slight swell of her lower stomach. They derailed from a straight path to trace across the raised angle of her hipbone and then followed the crease of her thigh to sift through her pubic hair. She didn't have time to process embarrassment or shock. He continued on, turning his hand and running the smooth front surface of his claws across her inner thigh. He was close. So close. Too close. _Not close enough_ , her traitorous, strangely coherent mind whispered. Fire followed behind his claws, racing under her skin and shooting along every nerve ending in her body. She was so focused on her thigh, and everything important nearby, and on the suction of his mouth, the impression of fangs pressed against her lip with a force that nearly bruised and caused a tightening in her muscles, that she did not consider that he had two hands.

            His left palm was searing her back, between her shoulder blades. It was something she was not aware of until he moved, sliding, kneading across her skin so that he could cup her neck. His hands were large. She was vividly aware of the crushing power he had displayed more than once. Kagome gasped into his mouth and he growled.  The flat of his hand was wider than her neck; the thumb and smallest finger wrapped around her to brush calloused skin along her throat. She could feel the tips of his claws buried in her hair and pricking against her scalp.

            Although her mind was lost in a haze of sake and confused desire, her body did not have any trouble determining the proper reaction. Liquid heat pooled between her legs. Her fists clenched on the white silk of his kimono. Her back arched; her breasts ached – heavy and tight. Her nipples puckered, less as a result of exposure to cool autumn air and more from anticipation as he forced her head backward.  He let her lip go at the last moment, pricking her with one fang and drawing a breathless squeak of surprised pain and desperate need. Anxiety finally pushed past the muddled confusion in her brain. _Why is he – what is he – He wasn't supposed to want more!_ “Sesshomaru, I-”

            Whatever plea for mercy, for release, _for another kiss_ , she would have uttered was cut off as he licked at her mouth.  His tongue burned wetly on the tiny wound he had made, and then the hurt was gone. Leaving only swiftly cooling moisture and a compulsion to taste more of him. “Do not worry, Miko.” His voice was low, so deep she felt it more than heard it.  “This One will take his time.” 

            Her mouth fell open in shock.  She had only a moment to take in the red glow of his eyes and then his head dipped.  She was nearly blinded by moonlight, filtering through the trees overhead and reflecting off of his hair.  Her eyes fell closed against the sudden brightness, and the sobering light had a moment to help her gather her thoughts.  _I left him there. I helped him cum – I had the best orgasm of my life. He seemed to be better and I left him. He wasn't supposed to follow me. If he followed me, he wasn't supposed to have enjoyed it. If he enjoyed it, even a little, he wasn't supposed to want an encore. He certainly wasn't supposed to kidnap me and, and, and..._

            That thought fell away as warm lips and a pleasantly abrasive tongue found a sensitive spot on the underside of her jaw. She couldn’t make sense of her own response in the moment, but some small part of her recognized that Sesshomaru was not truly taking advantage of her. The lubricant her body was jubilantly making in hope that the daiyoukai would take things further than she had been willing to in their last encounter was evidence enough that she was an extremely willing participant. Not having actually been asked to participate was irrelevant, as far as the situation was concerned.  While she doubted that Sesshomaru would have cared if she was fighting him, she wasn't - had no intention to do so - and she didn't think she wanted to struggle. 

And she had started this. She just _had_ to help. _Yeah,_ she snorted internally, _just had to help myself._ She doubted any red-blooded woman would have blamed her. No heterosexual - or bisexual, or even hetero-curious – female could have seen Sesshomaru bare-chested, erect, pulsing...  She had to swallow hard or risk choking on the saliva pooling in her mouth.

            What had happened when she found him was done with. There was no going back. However, there still remained the puzzle of why the daiyoukai, the Western Lord, would be doing what he was doing.  The tip of his tongue ran slowly down the muscle on the side of the throat until he found her pulse. There he sucked, strongly, and she could not help but let out a whimper. Kagome tried to grab onto reason. His actions were completely out of character. That, combined with his frozen state when she had discovered him led her to believe there was something frighteningly wrong with Sesshomaru. Alcohol and sheer lust begged her to let him worry about his own motives. However, Kagome, helpful and caring to a fault, couldn't let him continue if he wasn't in his right mind.

            “Sessho-maru!” Her voice rose up on the last syllable as he discovered the sensitivity of her collarbone.  Her robe slipped off of one shoulder, the slide of silk on her skin unbelievably abrasive as every nerve ending was at attention, waiting. “This isn't – isn't you. Please, let- let me help-” He nipped lightly, and the gentle pinch of his teeth was followed again by the heat of his mouth. “You don’t even like humans. I shouldn't have-” The hand on her thigh turned suddenly, sliding between her legs. Firm pressure against her clit and labia brought her mind to a screeching halt. His hand on her neck flexed and then disappeared.  With one swift motion, she was pushed into a half-sitting, half-reclining position. Her robe fell completely off of her shoulders to pool in the bend of her elbows.  The belt hung loose and useless, exposing her body completely to his gaze.  Kagome blinked, wide-eyed, and she pressed deeper against the canvas of her backpack as he leaned close to her face.

            “Perhaps you should not have,” he agreed. His eyes were still dark red, but there was no haze of confusion or controlling force clouding them. In their new position, light fell across his features and her gaze was drawn to the jagged lines on his cheekbones and the fangs that escaped his lips – deadly and exotic. “However, Ka-go-me...” He drew out her name, and it sent a shiver down her spine – of fear or desire she did not know. “You swore to help This One, and you will not break your word.” His eyes bore into hers, impressing the importance of his words, of his actions, upon her. 

            His statement did not require a response, but she felt compelled to give one. “I promised,' she agreed quietly. Speaking her commitment soothed her mind even as it wound the tension in her lower belly tighter. His stoic facade dropped for a moment, and she was shocked by the raw need and heat she saw before his head dipped again, this time to allow him access to her breasts. His breath was hot against her skin, and she moaned when his tongue flicked out to taste her.  She released her grip on his clothes to thrust her hands into his hair, distantly marveling at the silky texture while she wavered between pulling his head closer and pushing him away before she melted into a puddle of need.

            “You will keep your word to This One,” he spoke against her skin. His lips closed over her nipple and the tug of suction and swirl of his tongue were her undoing. She moaned, arching her back and giving in to the situation. However strange, however dream-like and bizarre it was to have Sesshomaru want her, Kagome could not have stopped him anymore if she wanted to. She definitely didn't want to stop him. She had made a promise, and unlike so many others, this one would be an _indulgence_ to keep. A selfish part of her, a deeply hidden and rarely indulged part of her, whispered that she deserved this. After all that she had done - endured, smiled and laughed through while her emotions and life in the future were being crushed – she deserved to be able to let go for one night and do only what made her feel good. One of her thumbs found his ear and she traced the edge in a bid to encourage him.  The sharp edge of his teeth pressed against her skin - not quite hard enough to draw blood. The combination of tugging and sucking sent a spiral of heat through her and her head fell back against the bag. She wasn't sure if the stars she was seeing were real, or a result of the throbbing pleasure that radiated from his hands and mouth.

            With a twist of her flesh that drew another cry, he released her and pressed open-mouthed kisses and nips in a trail to her other breast.  His words were spoken into her skin. She would have missed them if her entire life force had not been focused on him in that moment. “You will help me, even if it kills us both.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: There I go again, happily procrastinating the work that I get paid for in order to satisfy your depraved needs. 
> 
> Who am I kidding, I can't wait to see what happens next either. I hope you enjoyed Chapter 10!


	11. Depeche Mode

 

**Chapter 11: Depeche Mode (Freestate)**

 

            “Sessho-maru!” His name on her lips, the smell of her skin, the taste of her mouth – warm and minty with a lingering hint of alcohol – combined to tear at his control.  He followed the delicate bones that connected her shoulders to her sternum. The thought of how fragile she was, how easily he could snap those bones and take her life, was both arousing and perturbing. He wanted her to last the entire month.  He would not be able to prevent her eventual exhaustion, but he would do everything in his power to curb his strength and his more violent instincts.  As long as he could hold on to his logical mind, he could maintain a necessary reign on himself. For her sake. And for his own.

            She was talking again. He wanted to nip her in chastisement. To bite her lips so that she would know he wanted only sounds of pleasure, of his name, to be spoken by her. _She will not understand_. Instead, he used her own body to teach her. He applied pressure, swiftly testing her flesh to find the correct amount so that she moaned.  He pulled her forward, propping her up against her bag so that she was exposed to him. Moonlight kissed her skin, making her creamy breasts seem to glow.  He agreed with her that it would have been better if she had never found him in the woods. Better for her; better for him to have never known that he could fall so low, have his need incited by a human. Then again, she sated him as no other had. 

            “However, Ka-go-me...” He drew out her name, watched her eyes flare briefly in surprise before falling again, heavy lidded and warm with desire and the last vestiges of her inebriation.  She was unlike any other human he had ever known. Honorable. Clean. Brave. Selfless. Immensely desirable. He reminded her of her promise.  He would not let her go back on her word. He was holding her to the letter of her vow, not her intent, but such considerations were for diplomats.

            Sesshomaru was no diplomat.

            He was a warrior. A killer. And the Call of his blood was a battle he was determined to win.  She would be his weapon in that war against himself.  Her cool hands would soothe the fire in his veins.  Her lips would fight back the bellicose nature that urged him to forget his reason. Her wet passage would be his salvation. He was not certain how he knew that the miko's body was exactly what he needed, but the truth could not be denied. Never before had he been driven to such passion and kept his sanity intact.  Never before had he anticipated the heat so eagerly.

            The blue of her eyes was dark and nearly swallowed by the black centers. “I promised,” she whispered.  A fierce satisfaction flooded him.  She was his. Her fingers slipped through his hair as he tasted her skin again and he allowed her that liberty.  The feeling of her dull nails against his scalp released quickly, as though she could not decide if she wanted to pull him closer. He made the decision for her.

            “You will keep your word to This One,” he said, before wrapping his lips around one dark pink bud. He twisted the hand between her legs, changing the angle and pressure. She arched, pressing one full globe against his face and causing the nipple to scrape lightly against his teeth. He sucked harder, trying to force another moan from the woman. The heavy aroma of hibiscus flowers flooded his nose.  He knew her arousal was assisted by alcohol, but he would use the opportunity to find every pleasure point, every inch of skin and brush of tongue or hand that would make her whimper.  Once her system was free of the sake, he would take her again, and her every response would be caused by him, and him alone.

            His instincts urged. His pride demanded.

            With a careful twist of an agile tongue he drew another cry from the miko.  He assured her, while he tasted her skin and stained her body with his scent that there was no return from their actions. She would be his until the end – no matter how it came.

            Her right breast was just as tender as the first and he nearly lost himself in the taste of her. He dragged his fingers up her slit until the smooth curve of his claws met her lower lips.  With his first two fingers, he used pressure and an upward motion to part her flesh.  A burst of scent – moist salt, flowers, and a faint pungent musk – caused saliva to pool in his cheeks and a growl to escape him.  The vibration and his wet mouth had the effect of lubricating the tip of her breast and creating friction between his teeth and that erogenous berry. Her fingers clenched against his scalp in perfect synchronization with the tightening of his sac.  Liquid coated his claws.

            With a swift motion, he released her breast.  Her eyes flew open as the sudden loss of suction caused the sweet mound to jiggle.  He watched in fascination, his imagination easily providing images of other activities to make her flesh bounce. Their eyes met over his glistening fingers, and Sesshomaru felt the first hints of a rare smile tilting his lips.  Her scent was intoxicating, he _would_ not wait to taste her.

            His tongue flicked out, but that tiny hint was not enough and he was sucking both digits between his lips before the taste even registered. Flavor exploded across his senses. _Supple red wood. Luscious berries. Sweet flowers._ She tasted like lightning. She tasted like a summer storm over the sea. Like salt and wind and untamed _power_. 

            He had known. From the very beginning, from the first time he had encountered her in his father's tomb and she had taken up Tessiaga and shrugged off his acid, he knew. The girl – woman, breathtakingly, thankfully, lusciously woman – was a wellspring of power.  He had not wanted to dwell on it then, or for many seasons afterward, but she was the closest he had experienced to an equal.  Reiki and youki, two opposing forces, but finally in her he had found a power that approached his own massive reserves of energy.  She was untried and untrained – easily ignored in battle as inconsequential. Not so easily ignored by the irritating voice in his mind that suggested things. Noticed things. 

            She had always smelled acceptable. He had grudgingly admitted that, but the voice in his mind that he pushed aside suggested it was more than acceptable. Her scent was tempting. Promising. She often smelled of strange, artificial things that spiked his interest for a moment at a time, before he had the opportunity to quash his curiosity and continue his resolute disdain for her.  He could not help but hear her describe the things that she brought from her home – lotions, soaps, and balms – when she showed them to his ward and shared with the females in the camp.

            Her voice. He told himself he could not help but hear one who was so ignorant of the sensitivity of inu ears – or the proper moderation for female conversation. But that part of him that was eager for her scent took pleasure in the soft-spoken 'Sesshomaru-sama' when she tried to forestall sparring sessions with his brother, and later when he had allowed her rag-tag band to join his pack she had offered him tea with that voice and spoken carefully of inane things that were her attempt, he was sure, to try and include him. He even took pleasure – albeit a darker variety – in the shrill echoes of the subjugation spell she worked on the hanyou.  Painful to his ears, but a luxurious balm to his ego.

            All of that knowledge, those realizations flashed through his mind as her thin honey washed across his tongue and slid down his throat.  He wanted more. More of that sweet, salty power. More of the evidence of her desire for him.  More of her.  A low growl of warning escaped him and he pulled his fingers free of his mouth to trace her lips.  Her tongue darted out, even as she held his gaze, and he watched with fascination as her eyes first widened at the taste of herself on his skin, and then grew heavy.  He settled his palms on her shoulders and traced down, over her lush breasts, across sweet nipples and smooth ribs. The indentation of her waist. He cupped a well-rounded hip in each hand and tilted her pelvis.  Even as he positioned himself between her legs he kept his eyes on hers, determined to watch this time as he pushed her into her orgasm. The first of many she would experience at his hands and mouth.


	12. Air

**Chapter 12: Air (Playground Love)**

 

 

            Kagome watched, entranced, as Sesshomaru licked at his fingers.  His tongue – her legs quivered at the site of it – caught the liquid dripping down his skin and then he pulled his first two claws right into his mouth.  A rush of wet heat that coated her thighs and sent a shiver through her as it dripped onto her robe and cooled there would have been embarrassing if she wasn't still teetering at the edge of intoxication.  As it was, she could only focus on the heat of his hips between her legs and the imagined pressure of his tongue against his skin. She doubted it could have impacted her more if he had taken her fingers in his mouth.  _Then again.._.

            He surprised her by tracing her lips with those same fingers, his claws gentle and the callouses catching on the full bottom bow. Without thought, her tongue darted out and she tasted herself on him. The faint remnants of her fluid was salty and a little pungent, but his skin added a flavor of mystery and dark power that made her want to suck him into her mouth. Again. He pulled away and pressed his hands to her shoulders. His skin was hot, the slightly abrasive pads of his fingers followed the pressure of his palms over her chest, catching for a moment on her nipples – _please stay, more, please_ – and across her ribs, down to squeeze her hipbones and circle under her to grab her ass. _Yes, yes, please, more._ Her legs wanted to fall open as he tipped her pelvis up and slid down her body. She tightened her muscles in response, trying to close them out of some knee-jerk reaction, but the breadth of his shoulders prevented her. His eyes stayed locked on hers, and Kagome could not have looked away if she wanted to.

            She saw something there, something in the red glow that made her breath catch and liquid seep into the sleeping bag beneath her. His nose pressed against her skin just below her belly button and his tongue darted out. The texture was just on the pleasurable side of rough and she couldn’t help the startled gasp that escaped her, nor the way it merged into a moan as he licked up her skin. He did not pause, but changed directions, leading the wicked dance of his tongue toward her hipbone. With short, darting caresses he wavered between the ridge of her pelvis and the crease of her thigh. She giggled when he hit a particularly ticklish spot, then moaned when he squeezed his hands in response. His claws prickled almost painfully against the tender skin of her ass.

            “Your laughter is pleasant,” he murmured against her skin. His red gaze shuttered for a moment, and when he met her eyes again his had darkened. “But This One prefers other sounds.” A part of her brain got sidetracked by the strange notion that the Killing Perfection liked the sound of her laugh, and then all thought escaped her. Her head fell back against her bag and she stared, unseeing, at the starry sky as he sucked on the skin of her inner thigh. He was so close to her core that his cheek was pressed against her, and Kagome would have been mortified by the liquid she was smearing across his markings if not for the sharp tug of ecstasy that was linked from the pressure of her flesh against his smooth lips and deadly teeth to the bundle of nerves between her legs. She cried out his name moments later as his knuckles found the cleft between her cheeks, probing at that entrance to her body. He did not enter her, but sudden, firm pressure was accompanied by a nip at her leg and Kagome jumped and thrust her fingers into his hair, digging her nails against his scalp.

            “Sesshomaru!” Her scream was strangled, her breath short. He allowed her no time to regain her bearings, however. He pressed once more against the abused skin of her thigh and then he was grazing his teeth against her as he turned to face his goal. There should have been embarrassment, Kagome knew. There should have been trepidation and nerves and second-thoughts. At the very least, there should have been performance anxiety. There was not. Kagome was a virgin who, until only hours ago, would have listed her most intimate experience as an open-mouthed kiss that lasted for not quite twenty seconds. Which was twenty seconds too long, in her estimation, and tasted of popcorn and cola. The last sane, calm part of her brain noted that if ever there was a prescription for experiencing an enjoyable, humiliation-free cherry-popping, the combination of sake and ridiculously talented hot daiyoukai was it. As soon as she had the realization, it was smothered by the dark words he rumbled against her throbbing flesh.

            “Yes, my name.” He breathed deeply, and a rumble in his chest vibrated the air around them. “Announce who pleases you.” She struggled to open her eyes, _when did I close them_ , and caught only a glimpse of red slits framed by white lashes. Sharp teeth snapping down on deadly claws. His breath fanned against her heated core and she lost any curiosity about what she had seen in favor of trembling with need. “Scream out your desire – the name of the one whom you ache for.” His tongue, that talented, should-definitely-be-illegal muscle dragged up her skin. He started at the press of his knuckle, still firmly lodged against her, and drew up her slit, licking away moisture that her body replaced just as quickly. She did cry out, what – she had no idea. Perhaps his name as he had instructed, perhaps some obscenity or even just unintelligible sounds. Whatever she said, he interpreted it correctly, pausing only long enough in his exploration to delve inside her. His growls tripped a spring within her and muscles deep inside clenched in pleasure while the stars overhead spun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I've hit a good stride with my other writing, so it was fun to post a chapter for Heated Blood. I hope you enjoyed it!


	13. Frankie Goes to Hollywood

**Chapter 13: Frankie Goes to Hollywood (Relax)**

 

The smooth skin of her thigh was exquisite. The thin silk of her that separated his teeth from toned muscle and blood was a challenge as well as a reward. He sucked at her, pulling the flavor of her flesh and essence into his mouth and savoring it as he savored the sounds she made. Thready moans, mewls, gasps. She was a sinful decadence to him – and his instincts. It was the hot moisture of her desire that drove his beast to finally break free of his bonds, if only for a moment. Soft hair and tender, swollen skin pressed against his cheek and with each breath her body grew wetter. The surety that her honey was for him alone, that he would have every drop of it, ripped away his control. He bit her.

            Even his most base self seemed to recognize her fragility, for he barely broke the skin, leaving only four tiny pricks of blood from his fangs and the impression of his teeth that would most certainly bruise. He had the presence of mind to distract her from the pain with a knuckle against the puckered hole of her backside. Her gasp and strangled utterance of his name filled him with a possessive pride even as he pressed the flat of his tongue against her skin to taste her blood. She was sweet, and smokey, like ripe fruit and supple wood. He wanted more. His beast would have taken it if he had not forced his face to her most intimate place and breathed deeply to distract himself. There were other libations her body would offer him that would gratify them both.

“Yes, my name.” He spoke in a low voice and focused on her scent as it flooded his nose. He growled in approval and the vibration had the satisfying effect of spiking her desire. He watched her honey collect and glisten on her skin before sliding down to pool on the bedding below her.  “Announce who pleases you.”  He wanted to taste her as he brought her to completion. With a demoness he would have denied himself rather than be forced to clip a claw to avoid damaging delicate nerves, but with Kagome he did not even have to think about the option. His teeth snapped through the lethal points on his first two fingers and he blunted them against the flat side of a fang to ensure there were no rough edges. They would grow back in less than a day, and he did not spare any consideration for a loss of his perfection. It was nothing in comparison to the promise of working her little berry with his fingers while he plunged his mouth against her core. He would pull every response from her and drink down her desire.

First, he would ensure that she knew her place – that she knew to whom she owed gratitude for her pleasure. She trembled under his low command, “Scream out your desire – the name of the one whom you ache for.” He pressed his tongue against the skin just above his knuckle, and noted that she responded well to such treatment. It would make many options available to him as he spent the next month sampling all she had to offer and molding his innocent miko to his desires. The taste of her as he licked up was indescribable. Salt and pungent musk that made his beast drool and thrash against his control with eagerness. The scent of her hibiscus desire coated his lungs as her honey coated his throat. With each stroke, her eager body flushed her tissues with blood. The scent called to him. The texture of her swollen flesh tantalized him. The thickening liquid of her desire urged him, drove him, begged him to finish her however he saw fit.

“Please, Sessho-plea-sessho-Maru!” Her panting cries and the blunt nails that scraped against his scalp, alternately pulling him closer and pushing him away, sent a surge of blood to his cock. Up to that moment, he had been content to enjoy her, but her insistent desire wore down his patience. He thrust his tongue inside her, seeking out the source of her taste and curling around it to pull it back to his mouth. Her inner muscles clenched around him, trying to push him out, and he reflexively growled.

“Submit,” he commanded in the inu language. The order was unintelligible with his lips pressed against her and his tongue still fighting to dive further, but it did not matter. Her thighs locked around his head, her back arched, and her body clenched again, this time drawing him deeper.

“Ah!” She screamed and a rush of liquid flooded his mouth. It was power, pure, unadulterated, exhilarating. She tasted of raw lightning on a summer night. She tasted of female musk and salty desire. She tasted of delicate flowers, ripe fruit, and red wood. He wanted more. He drank her down greedily, lapping at her and ignoring the insistent demands of his cock for as long as he could. Even as her legs relaxed, trembling and falling to the bedding, he pressed his mouth against her again, savoring every last drop of her completion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: A birthday, a final home inspection, and I'm 1 1/2 chapters away from finishing my current original work. It has been a good two weeks - so let's celebrate with citrus!


	14. Eric Burdon and War

**Chapter 14: Eric Burdon and War (Spill the Wine)**

  

            Kagome was having an out of body experience. She recognized that with a strange clarity even as her body was numb to everything but the lingering tingle of electricity originating between her legs and lazily winding through her limbs. The stars overhead winked at her, dazzling in their brilliant whiteness against the dark sky. The glow of the moon was partially obscured by tree tops, but the light still reflected brightly off of the pool of silver hair spread across her legs. The warm silk of it danced and slithered pleasurably on her skin in a cool breeze. The gentle gust of air raised gooseflesh on her arms and belly and caused her nipples to tighten painfully. _What was I- oh, right. Sesshomaru._

            Sesshomaru. Her gaze fell and focused on the crown of his head and the aristocratic line of his nose that was pressed against her. Feeling returned in a rush, as though her brain had rebooted after orgasm and was playing catch-up to alert her to everything she had missed. Her muscles trembled, the long drag of his tongue across her labia – the quick flick over her clitoris – made her gasp. The sensation was too new, too soon after she had lost control. Her tender flesh protested, but her body was more than ready to give Sesshomaru what he was looking for, whatever it would take to keep his head and fingers between her thighs. Liquid head washed out of her and before her woozy head could even think to be embarrassed he was lapping it up with a growl that could only be interpreted as enjoyment.

            His fingers traced up her lower lips to find the bundle of nerves so recently stimulated. The sharp claws of his thumb, ring, and little finger pricked against her skin, making her shiver. His index and middle finger caught her flesh and _rolled_.

            “Ahh- oooh…” Her high-pitched shriek of surprise quickly morphed into a sound that could only be described as wanton. Or needy. Or succubant.

            “Yes,” he rumbled more than the one word against her, but the sounds meant nothing to her brain and everything to the tightening muscles low in her belly. Her eyes closed of their own accord, unable to process any visual stimulation when there was so much going on right inside her body. She ached, trying unconsciously to rub her legs together and relieve the emptiness, the pulsing heat between them, but thwarted by broad shoulders. Then he pressed suddenly with his tongue.

            “Sesssss!” Her breath left her in a hiss. The wet, velvety muscle stroking her from the inside out was too much for words. Her channel clenched reflexively, but it was not enough to hold him. He withdrew, leaving her even emptier for the absence. The returning thrust caught her by surprise before she could voice any complaint. His tongue curled inside, impossibly long. Strong. Dexterous. His fingers pulled her mind so sharply in another direction that she couldn’t hold onto any thought. Pressed firmly against one calloused digit, he flicked her clit with the other. It should have hurt. If she had been anything less that post-orgasmic and quickly approaching that peak again the action would have been uncomfortable. As it was she only shrieked. Light swirled behind her eyelids and her legs snapped closed.

            With all the speed of a youkai, he caught her left thigh in his hand, abandoning her ass. The sting of his claws and the press of hot callouses against smooth skin sent another wave of heat and lust crashing through her. Her left leg wrapped around him, sliding over his shoulder. The soft surface of her inner thigh pressed against his ear while her heel dug into his lower back. Her nails dug into his scalp, tangling his hair around her fingers and trying to force him more firmly against her.

            It wasn’t possible. Not only was her strength laughable compared to his, but he already felt welded to her body. Pierce. Curl. Drag. His mouth didn’t give her time to breathe, much less ask for more. Or to stop. Or to move faster or slower or press – just – _there!_ His clawless fingers pinched and his tongue made a strange twisting motion and she was flying apart again. Nothing was real but the pressure of Sesshomaru. The demands of mouth and sex and pleasure.

 


	15. Hugo

**Chapter 15: Hugo (Bread and Butter)**

 

Sesshomaru had never felt so alive – so perfectly aware of himself and a single moment in time. Kagome had already released into his mouth once, and he was so intent on dragging another explosion from her that his body acted purely on instinct. His lessons, so long ago, his experience and study surely informed his action, but more than that her response directed him to press, to pull, to twist and flick and demand. She tried to close on him, but he caught her and held her open. The faint scent of blood did not distract him, only drove him deeper into his own need. The need to force her to accept his lust. To force her to bow to his body and give him what he desired.

Her heel pressed hard enough against his spine a human would not have been able to continue. Sesshomaru was only incented. Her liquid desire washed over him and he lapped it up greedily, not satisfied until she gave him everything, until she was too exhausted to do more than offer herself. Whisper his name. Accept whatever he would give. Do. Take.

            She finally flew apart in that perfect moment. Time seemed to stand still for him. Conquest was his. Her body was spread before him – the greatest prize he had ever claimed. Flesh tightened and pulsed, melting into his mouth and sustaining him.  The electric burn of her power collided with his teeth, wrapped around his fangs and burned down his throat, flooding him with her energy. With each swallow his cock grew harder, more demanding and more certain. This woman - human, miko - was _his_.

He did not wait for her to relax completely but licked up her flesh with the flat of his tongue and hooked both of her knees over his elbows. He cupped her weeping entrance with one hand as he moved up her body, then spread her hot liquid across his own burning skin and positioned himself carefully. She had not yet ceased trembling, her lips still parted on a silent scream, when he drove her apart. Only a few inches, not quite half of him, forced inside before her tightness halted his movement. He could have continued, but what was a rough motion would have become painful. His blood was screaming at him to go. Move. Thrust. But he halted.

Sesshomaru blinked in surprise, finding her wide blue eyes staring at him in equal shock. Certainly he had felt unusually stated after she brought him to completion. Undeniably he had proven to have more control over himself since their first encounter, but he had not really expected his body to obey his mind. This was why humans, even weaker youkai, had to be carefully prepared and conditioned for a Call. Once lust lit a fire in a demon’s veins there was no extinguishing it until it had run its course. No reasoning with instinct, no soothing a beast. Until Kagome. Whatever it was about her touch or taste, whatever source that fueled her power, it was enough to bring his mind and body into concord. Sesshomaru, for the first time in his memory, had control of himself during a time of wild frenzy.

He could _stop_.

_Could._ Did not, he realized as her muscles clenched and slowly eased around him, _want_ to. His palms were flat against the cushion of her bedding. Skin - more sensitive than he had ever before noticed - on his inner arms rubbed against the outer curve of her breasts. His markings were dark and sharp against those pale globes. Her face was more than a foot beneath his, but still he could feel the puff of her warm breath and see the pulse of blood under her skin at her temples. Her passage eased another fraction and his eyes drifted lower.  Her lips were swollen and abused, not by him as much as by her. Kagome’s own teeth had made sharp impressions in the delicate flesh, even piercing it in one spot that welled richly red. The scent of it, iron and power, mixed with the heavy hibiscus and salty musk of her desire. Her throat, lightly tanned and arching back over her bag called to him. The position was so blatantly submissive that he could only growl in approval.

His female knew her place. Legs wrapped around him, naked and full breasts heaving, still wet from his mouth. Waiting for him to fill her, please her, slake her lust. The grip on his cock eased to something deliciously tight but no longer trying to force him out, and he tested himself. Sesshomaru leaned down and licked her mouth, taking that fresh blood for his own and whispering into her, “Say what it is you desire.” He rolled his hips experimentally, not thrusting, but not retreating. The motion was torturous and perfectly designed to make his balls ache and his ass clench with the effort to hold himself back. He held to his own standard. Kagome did as well, beautifully, wantonly. Her moan and the flutter of dark lashes over blue eyes were as satisfying as they were unfulfilling. He leaned closer, letting his lips drag against the skin of her jaw, stirring up her scent. He pulled the lobe of her ear into his mouth, bringing another sound of unmet need from her. “Say who has conquered you.”

“Sess- sess-ho-” He snapped his hips forward and she screamed. “Sess-ho-mar-uuu!” Her eyes rolled back and her mouth fell wide. Then he stopped watching her face. He should have continued to look; he would wish later that he had kept his eyes on her while she finished. Once twice, three times and then the tension moved down his spine. Tingling, burning. Lighting and energy - as if his very soul was collecting within him and pouring into her. His hips spasmed as he released. His balls tightened and he emptied everything he was into her. His seed. His heat. His power. Sesshomaru collapsed against her: spent, stunned, and blissfully empty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while, but with Valentine's Day coming up, Kagome deserved a little attention. Don't you agree?


	16. The Eagles (Tequila Sunrise)

 

Kagome woke to the tickle of her hair on her face. Without opening her eyes, she flipped her head in an attempt to flick it away.

“Sonofa-” she groaned. With that one movement, her brain sloshed inside her skull and she became aware of a litany of other aches and pains. Centered primarily between her legs. The thought made her pop up like a jack-in-the-box – eyes open and staring into the darkness. The moon was near the horizon, barely filtering through the trees, and the sun had not even begun to lighten the sky. Being alone in the woods in the dark was the least of her concerns. The greatest of them was the rush of memory that assaulted her.

Kagome had sex with Sesshomaru. Sex. Sesshomaru.

Multiple times. More than multiple, if orgasm without penetration counted. Chilly pre-dawn air blew across her shoulders and back where her sleeping bag had fallen away, reminding her that she was naked. Naked and sticky and lightly coated with dried sweat. And alone. Thankfully, _blessings upon everything that was holy and good fortune to all whom she met_ , Kagome was alone.

_Too bad_ , a little voice in the back of her head whispered. She easily ignored it under the pressure in her head every time she moved and the general aches of her body. She was alone, which meant that Sesshomaru was better, or finished with her, or whatever. Although whatever had been wrong with him had caused him to act completely out of character, he had either taken some responsibility for their mutual actions or felt grateful to her for the assistance she had offered and left her alive. That, or he was still ill and was, even then, raging through the forest in search of another willing woman. Kagome shook her head – immediately regretting the movement. Although her memory was a little blurry, like a movie that was slightly out of focus, she had no misconceptions as to how much relief he took in her body. _Gave plenty too_ , that traitorous voice said. And certainly no force on Earth could have prevented him from continuing to take what he needed. If Inuyasha couldn’t keep him from –

_Inuyasha!_

Kagome paled. Bile rose in her throat and she barely managed not to vomit. She was not in camp, and there was currently no hanyou crashing through the trees looking for her, so Inuyasha wasn’t in camp either. But he would be. Soon. He was no doubt catching something for breakfast and would be back shortly before dawn. Then he would see she was missing and he _would_ be crashing through the trees looking for her. When he found her…Kagome could smell herself without even trying. She smelled like sex. Sex and alcohol and sweat. It would be pretty obvious what she had been doing all night. And probably with whom she had been doing it. Inuyasha had picked a fight that resulted in three broken ribs and a dislocated shoulder the first time she shared tea with his older brother. It didn’t matter that Inuyasha didn’t even like the tea. When he realized she had shared more than that, a lot more… Kagome groaned quietly. Her sore throat was evidence of the many times she had moaned, whimpered, called out his name, begged him for _more, yes, there, now, please, Sesshomaru!_

Something stirred in the underbrush, and she was alerted again to the nearing dawn and her vulnerable position. Gingerly, she tried to figure out where she was without her brain banging around too much. She recognized the area where she had first found Sesshomaru. The stream was off to her left, and camp was straight ahead. Broken branches and kicked up dirt marked her trail. Her yellow bag was nearby – _Sweet mother of pearl, thank you_ – which meant she had clean clothes and soap and toothpaste. Especially the toothpaste because her mouth tasted like a fuzzy caterpillar had crawled in there and died. Her water bottle was still clipped to the outside, mostly full, which was also good because she recognized that most of her headache stemmed from dehydration.

_All I’ve had to drink since yesterday afternoon is sake, and I was sweating pretty hard by the second time he pulled me down onto-_

Kagome firmly steered her thoughts towards productive action. She needed to wash off so Inuyasha wouldn’t have kittens if he sniffed her, and so that she didn’t feel quite so disgusting. Brushing her teeth would probably curb her nausea. She unzipped her bag and stood up on bare feet, keeping the thick material wrapped around her as best she could. Her shoes were not in sight; she could only hope they were back at camp. Not having them would make for a slow and painful walk, however. She bent over to grab her bag, wincing at the way it stretched her leg and back muscles, and then almost cried out when she got the strap over her bare shoulder. Carefully she felt around. The skin between her neck and collarbone was tender and slightly rough. _Did youkai give hickeys?_ Apparently.

Before she could sink into her memories again, Kagome hefted her bag and picked her way towards the stream. Testing it with one toe proved it was just as cold as it looked, and she had to bite off a yelp. She set her bathing things as close to the edge as she dared. In one motion, she dropped the sleeping bag and slid all the way underwater. She came up spluttering, teeth chattering, with hair in her face. With her bottom on the smooth stones that lined the creek bed, Kagome reached for her soap with one hand and pushed the other through her hair. Her fingers immediately got tangled.

“What the hell is in my-” She snapped her teeth shut on that question, her face burning. Kagome recalled exactly why her hair was snarled and stuck together. With her head pounding and her skin quickly chilling, she forced herself not to think about it. She did, however, continue to mutter to herself as she washed, then washed again, and brushed her teeth. “Idiot Kagome,” she intoned as she examined the deep bruise on her shoulder with a compact. The faint fang marks on her left breast. The finger shaped bruises on her hips, wrists, and – inexplicably – one ankle. The series of mouth-shaped discolorations on her inner thighs. She shivered as she dressed and vowed to never again drink sake. She cursed Miroku and his generous pouring as she used most of the rest of her soap on her stained robe and sleeping bag and then struggled to wring out the water. She promised to pay Yuka back, painfully, for lending her the manga that no doubt encouraged her brave foray into sexual experimentation while she carried her bag and soaking bedding through the forest, barefoot.

She did not, even once, curse Sesshomaru. Or his calloused fingers. Or his long tongue. Or his hips forcing her legs apart. Or how the markings on his cheekbones seemed to taste spicier than the rest of his skin. Or the way his lips and teeth worked together to make her want to beg for mercy and demand more at the same time. She did not even think about those things.

“Oi.” The greeting was softer than usual, but still enough to startle Kagome out of her careful examination of the ground before her bare feet.

_Fucking hell._ Those two words about summed up seeing Inuyasha standing next to the fire, a stick in hand and fresh wood piled next to him. _Fucking. Hell._

“You look like shit, humph.” He turned away from her back to the fire and stirred the embers before adding more wood. “Serves you right, drinkin’ like the pervert. Thanks for washing off the puke, at least, fore I got back.”

He thought she- only smelled the water..he didn’t know. Kagome thanked whatever lucky star she must have been born under.

“Yeah...my bad.”

“You saved me from lookin’ for ya. We need to leave soon, caught that bastard Sesshomaru’s scent during the night.” Kagome stiffened, and Inuyasha predictably, noticed. “Don’t worry, he’s probably long gone, and if not, I’ll make sure he keeps away from you.”

_Hell. Just. Fucking. Hell._


	17. Marvin Gaye

**(Sexual Healing)**  


In the hour before dawn, the moon low and heavy in the sky, Sesshomaru found himself with his back to a tree just outside of the clearing where he had brutally, thoroughly, exquisitely taken the Shikon Miko. His right hand loosely gripped the pommel of his sword, his left hung empty at his side. He stared at her, at the place where she lay, discreetly covered by her bedding - which he could smell reeked of him, and her, and them together even from a distance – and the deep shadows of night. One arm had struggled out of the confines; his gaze traced the lightly browned skin of her forearm down to the strange bracelet that glowed on her wrist – a watch, she had told him once, when they travelled together. The jumble of her dark hair spilled out, a wanton reminder of their behavior.

The thick locks were tangled, matted on one side with her own honey. The final time he had brought her to completion – denying himself so that he could finally watch her – his hand had been dripping wet as he cupped her jaw and the hair that was stuck to her neck with sweat. Her eyes had fluttered shut, dark lashes covering blue eyes. Her mouth had fallen open, red lips bruised and swollen from his teeth and hers. From his lips and tongue. Her head thrown back, neck taut and throat exposed to him. _Submission, permission, desire._ The sound she had made, her voice overused and raw, was quiet and subtle and so full of satisfaction and gratitude – with an edge of fatigue - that his hand twitched toward the ties of his pants just remembering it.

Sesshomaru was half-aroused, just watching her sleep. After tasting her body and testing her passion for hours, after emptying himself no less than four times, the sight of her hair and an errant wrist combined with her scent to have him unconsciously leaning toward her, mouth open to expose his fangs.

He shook himself and relaxed against the tree again. And felt curiosity, appreciation, and no small amount of awe in that single act. He had demanded his body submit to his mind, denied himself the female so obviously willing, and his body obeyed. In truth, he was half-aroused and able to quietly observe the Miko after – not _no less_ – but rather _only_ spending himself four times. By his calculation and the quiet tick of her watch it had been three hours since she had fallen into a deep, exhausted slumber and he had chosen not to wake her. He ran his tongue over his teeth, tasting the lingering salty musk of her moisture and the drugging scent of her arousal. His blood stirred, his beast raising its head and waiting to see if Sesshomaru would relax his command and allow them both to disrobe again and gather the woman close.

The daiyoukai did not. His beast was frustrated, but did not struggle.

The Miko began to stir, and Sesshomaru sank further back into the shadows so that he might watch her undisturbed. He had decided to test himself, and her, to see how long the effects of her body would last for him. Her power played a role, he was sure. That immense energy that matched his own, that exploded in his mouth when he tasted her. It was akin to swallowing a thunderstorm – lightning arcing through his limbs and stirring his lust and youki. He wanted to know its limits. He would not push himself too far; Sesshomaru had spent centuries monitoring his own desires and knew he could accurately judge when he was near a breaking point. He would not let it go that far, for at his most instinctual he was likely to damage the human. That, he would not allow. Not just because he wanted to enjoy the little priestess for the entire month, but because she had done no wrong that made her deserving of injury. He was surprised that he had been able to moderate his own lust, but even as his muscles had tensed, his back bowed under the strain, his cock throbbing and painfully hard right before he sank fully into her and found release, he had not needed any restraint to keep from using his full strength. From pressing his whole weight through his palm on her chest to hold her still. From twisting her arms behind her back to display her breasts. From sinking his fangs deep into her shoulder to _taste her blood and mark_ -

She was standing, and the small sounds of discomfort she made drew his attention from his own thoughts. She was sore, and he wondered how the sensations might differ from intimacies between humans. Concern for her physical health warred with pride for a few moments, until she was halfway to the stream and he realized she was moving slowly partly because her feet were bare. Her feet were small, but proportionate to her size, and pale in the dappled moonlight. One ankle had a ring of bruises, just the width of his fingers. The image of her, one knee pressed flat to the ground, the opposite leg stretched high in the air, the toned muscle of her calf against his chest and her soft thigh pressed to his stomach. He had held her foot up with one hand, keeping her open, while the other gripped her hip and pulled her into each thrust.

There was a soft exclamation as she stepped on a twig. Sesshomaru reassessed his condition. Still aroused. Still hungry for her. Still capable of waiting. He moved closer silently and watched her bathe, cataloging her injuries. The number made him frown. He had thought himself supremely delicate with the miko, but she had bruises – some he recalled with clarity, others he barely remembered. When she finally stood from the water, clean and no longer reeking of him – _he should scent her again, cover her with his body, with his seed and his youki so that none would dare touch her_ – her hair streaming down to her waist drew his attention to the perfect pinpricks of blood on her round bottom. Five on one side, three on the other, missing the two claws he had clipped for her pleasure. She did not seem to take much notice, other than her shoulder. She pulled her hair away to examine the wound with a small mirror and his eyes widened involuntarily. It was a deep bite, his fangs had drawn blood but not his teeth, and he had sealed it over with his own saliva. More disturbing that the damage to her skin was that he did not specifically remember making it. Marking her. Not permanently, but obviously.

He considered that in uncomfortable silence, listening to her complaints and threats as she dressed. A length of thin cloth came out of the depths of her bag and was wrapped around her neck, covering the sign of his lapse. Relief and irritation welled up in him. _Take her again now, scent her, mark so she cannot hide-_

He suddenly became cognizant of the subtle invasion of his beast’s desires into his thought process. That he could not allow, not if he wanted to see how long his sated condition would last. Not if he wanted the Miko intact at the end of his blood heat. Sesshomaru strengthened his resolve and followed her at a discreet distance back to camp, deliberately ignoring the sway of her hips, the tentative step of her pale feet, and the enticing perfume of her body and emotions. _Red flowers. Supple Wood. Decadent hibiscus._ He was certain he could control himself for at least one day.

At least until her group stopped to camp that evening.

_Perhaps they will make camp at midday._


	18. The Heavy

**(Sixteen)**

It was probably more good luck than Kagome deserved, but Miroku had obviously drank even more than she or Sango had. While Sango was quick to take the asprin Kagome offered, and to ask the well-rested and suspiciously cheerful Shippo to please keep it down, she had no qualms about eating the breakfast Inuyasha made. Kagome’s stomach felt fine as well – ravenously hungry, actually. Miroku, however, looked like he had been in hell three days and then come back to his body. He had huge circles under his eyes. His skin was pasty. And he threw up twice before they broke camp.

  
They got a late start and the walk was slower than usual, in deference to Miroku’s condition. Inuyasha stayed well ahead of them. He offered a few disapproving comments, but took Shippo with him so the kit wouldn’t irritate the other adults. Kagome was grateful. Would have been even more grateful if that wasn’t where her luck seemed to end. Because Sango stayed right by her side, throwing a few scornful glances at her husband and speaking in a hushed tone.

 

“Usually he is good for more caress- but last night! Ugh. And he thinks he wants to start a family! And I was warming up to the idea, but with that kind of performance? Well, I’ve enjoyed myself more by myself!”

  
Sango kept going, sharing more details about how good Miroku usually was in bed than Kagome really wanted to know. But the miko didn’t hear much of it. Her mind was stuck on one word. Family. A sweat broke out over her spine. She was on the pill – had been since after that first kidnapping and near forced marriage. She had told Mama it was so that she would always be prepared with sanitary supplies - there was no point in letting her know that Kagome was occasionally at risk of being raped. There was certainly no point in listening to another awkward discussion about respect for her own body and how love might bloom between a man and a woman. Bletch.

  
While she was prepared for the potential for both very bad things and perhaps some poor decisions on her part, she doubted the twenty-first century prophylactic industry was prepared for demon sperm. Did it work the same as a human guy’s? It had to be close, or there couldn’t be hanyou. But was it stronger? Weaker? Did it last longer? Was a tiny little pill really up to stopping the kind of swimmers Sesshomaru must have – have in tremendous abundance, if the previous night was any indication. She frowned deeply. And then there were diseases to consider. Maybe youkai had something that could be passed to humans. The Killing Perfection didn’t seem like the kind to sleep around, but who knew? He could have contracted something that his superior immune system didn’t even notice and still pass it on to her.

  
Kagome could feel her breath speeding up. The nervous sweat expanded to include her armpits and the backs of her knees. So, not only was she maybe, possibly, certainly by feudal definitions – a slut, she was definitely a one night stand and might be pregnant. Did a one night stand make her a slut? It wasn’t like she slept with a stranger. Or that she planned on doing it again. With anyone. Well, obviously again sometime. Just not a spur-of-the-moment drunken sex marathon in the woods with her sometimes ally and brother of her friend and former crush. So, not a slut, but definitely a poor decision maker. And possibly riddled with demon gnorreha or whatever the equivalent was. Also, Inuyasha kept turning around and looking at her funny. Kagome felt her left eye start to twitch. She was certain he knew. He knew she was a morally loose, pregnant, STD-covered liar and any minute now he would tell everyone.

And she kept imagining she could sense Sesshomaru’s youki behind her.

  
“So what do you think I should do?”

  
Kagome blinked, staring into Sango’s expectant face. What had they been talking about? Right, Miroku had been too sloshed for foreplay. “Um, it’s not really something I-”

  
“I know you are still untouched, of course!” Sango blushed, which made Kagome blush. _If only you knew._ “And forgive me for implying – but women seem to know more in your time. Even before they have...”

  
Oh. Right. Sure. Okay. “Ah,” Kagome tried to remember anything her friends had ever said about that sort of situation. Yuka was the only one who overshared about her activities, but she had already had more than one boyfriend that needed some instruction – so she had said. “You could always _show_ him what you would prefer?”

  
“I’m not certain I understand.” Sango frowned.

  
Kagome blushed. “I mean,” she cleared her throat. “I have heard that, it’s a kind of lesson and a punishment? You know?” When Sango didn’t seem to catch on, Kagome lowered her voice further. “You could enjoy yourself, like you said - _yourself_ , but make him watch so he knows what you want.” Sango’s eyes widened, but she seemed more interested than shocked, so Kagome continued, “And then don’t let him, er, finish. So he knows that it’s better when you both get to. Finish. Together. Er, right?”

  
Sango continued to stare at her, mouth open and brows raised. Kagome started to squirm with embarrassment, but the sudden tensing of her muscles reminded her that _she_ had finished plenty.

  
“That’s brilliant,” Sango finally managed. “And just the sort of situation that will make sure that pervert is paying attention. Thank you!” Sango linked their arms together and hummed happily.

  
Kagome tried not to wince as the movement stretched the skin on her shoulder. Her scarf covered it up, but the bite mark was still sore. And once she started thinking about that, she also thought about the bruises on her inner thighs that were uncomfortable too. Her last pair of clean underwear was a thong – _that must have been a packing mistake_ – and it did nothing to protect the pinprick bruises on her butt from her jeans. It was enough to make her wish for a skirt. If it wouldn’t have shown off the hickey on her left knee, she would have worn yesterday’s skirt and said to hell with the snail demon ichor. In particular, the sensitivity between her legs would have benefited from looser pants at least.

  
And...she was back to thinking about _that_ again.

  
It was good. Really, really good. Kagome didn’t have any previous personal experience, but even a virgin – hell, even an orphan raised in a secluded mountain nunnery under a vow of silence – would know that Sesshomaru did everything right and then some. It was – Kagome sighed. It was amazing and awesome and she felt a little tingle -

  
On the back of her neck.

  
“What the hell!” She stopped in the middle of the road and turned around, glaring at the trees. Nothing glared back.

  
“Kagome?” Sango asked softly.

  
“What’s up?” Inuyasha had stopped too and put his hand on his sword. “Do you sense something?”

  
_Yeah. I’m pretty sure I sense Sesshomaru. You know. The brother you hate who always shows you up and who also ravished me within an inch of my life so that I am ruined for all other men. How about you?_

  
“Nope. Nothing. I think a bug bit me.”

  
Inuyasha huffed and rolled his eyes. “Keh. You’re such a wimp. We left late, so let’s skip lunch and we can make it most of the way back to Edo before dark.”

  
“Lunch?” Miroku’s head snapped up and he dashed to the bushes at the side of the road. Retching sounds were loud enough to make Kagome feel sick. Shippo covered his nose with his tail and backed up behind Inuyasha.

  
“Gross.”

It was going to be a long day.


End file.
